


Mark Me Absent

by arwens_light



Series: Weirdos, Freaks, and Geeks [2]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Missing Brother, Past Abuse, Pining, upside down - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-02
Updated: 2016-09-13
Packaged: 2018-08-12 13:11:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 36,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7936018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arwens_light/pseuds/arwens_light
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Eric had asked Jonathan if he could cover last night's shift, he hadn't thought it would be a big deal - nothing exciting ever happened in Hawkins. It wasn't a big deal. Except it was. And now it was all his fault that Will was missing.</p><p>Stranger Things - Jonathan POV</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mark Me Absent

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own anything. The genius Duffer Brothers own all characters of Stranger Things. 
> 
> Stranger Things took me by storm. Once I got over my nightmares of the Demogorgon, I got a little obsessed. So this is my take on events from Jonathan's point of view. Because Jonathan (ok, so yeah, he totally shouldn't have taken those photos) is my spirit animal (introverted loner, anyone?) and all he cares about is finding his little brother. Working Title and Chapter Titles are inspired by pre-1983 The Clash songs. I don't own those either :)

When Eric had asked Jonathan if he could cover last night's shift, he hadn't thought it would be a big deal. He would earn a few extra bucks, which he knew would go a long way at home. His mom was working late too, but most nights, it was just he and Will home alone and come on, it was _Hawkins_ \- nothing exciting ever happened in Hawkins. It wasn't a big deal.

Except it was.

And now it was all his fault that Will was missing.

If only he had been home, if only he had been there for Will...

Jonathan stood in their backyard, staring out into the woods. He shivered as a gust of cold November wind cut through his thin t-shirt. His mom had driven into town to the Police Station to filing a Missing Child report. She had told him to stay home in case Will showed up.

He would have thought that his mom was just being overly paranoid, but Will was a good kid. He always called if he was staying over at a friend's house and more importantly - he never missed a day of school. Something was wrong. Something was seriously wrong.

"WILL!" Jonathan screamed, circling the run-down tool shed at the edge of the woods. "WILL!" He checked the shed for the third time, looking under the worktable and behind the rickety shelving. All he found was dust and cobwebs.

Jonathan returned outside and paced the tree line, scanning the overgrowth for any movement. His heart pounded in his chest and it felt like a rock had settled into the pit of his stomach. "WILL!" he screamed again, his vision suddenly blurring. He angrily wiped away the tears that streaked down his cheeks.

He walked back into the house, letting the screen door slam shut behind him. "WILL!" he yelled, marching down the narrow hallway. His mom had already turned the house upside down, but Jonathan had to check for himself. He started in the kitchen, opening the few cabinets that were big enough for a kid to fit inside. When Will was little, he used to hide in those cabinets when they played hide-and-go-seek. Will was still a pretty small kid, especially for his age... if there was a possibility Will could be hiding in such a small space, Jonathan was going to check.

The kitchen revealed nothing but the few pots and pans and second-hand casserole dishes his mother owned.

In the living room, Jonathan checked behind the sofa and the arm chairs, he pulled the television away from the wall and looked inside the cabinets built into the wall - Will used to hide in there sometimes too, behind the boxes full of old magazines, blankets and trinkets. Of course, it turned up nothing.

He searched the bathroom and all three bedrooms. He checked under the beds and rummaged through each closet. He did find a bottle of whiskey tucked away at the back of his mother's closet inside an empty carton of cigarettes. He found the history textbook he thought he's lost in ninth grade under his dresser and a box full of mixed tapes he had made Will in his brother's room. Jonathan rocked back onto his heels and dropped his head into his hands.

"Will," he muttered, the hopelessness of the situation washing over him. His brother was gone. Just... gone.

He slowly lifted himself from the floor and trudged back to the kitchen. He started down at the breakfast he had made this morning, cold and untouched on the table. He picked up a piece of toast, staring at it for a moment before tossing it back onto the plate. He wasn't hungry any way. He grabbed his denim jacket and shrugged it on before he pulled open the front door and settled into one of the chairs on the porch. He left the door ajar so that he could hear the phone if it rang.

It felt like an eternity before his mom returned home from the Police Station. She was even more worked up than before she had left, the worry etched deep on her face. She told him what Chief Hopper had said, about missing children usually turning up with a family member.

Jonathan scoffed at that. No way would Will have gone to their dad's. Lonnie was off somewhere in Indianapolis, living his own life while they lived theirs in Hawkins. Jonathan and Will hadn't seen their dad in over a year. "No way Will's with Lonnie," Jonathan said, frowning as he gazed into the woods again. He paused, considering for a moment. "Would he... do you think he went to his castle?" he asked, referring to the make-shift fort he had helped Will build when they were younger. Jonathan didn't go there anymore, but he knew Will still went there, to study, to read, to imagine a different and better place than Hawkins…

Joyce's eyes lit up for a moment before the doubt overshadowed it. "Maybe, but wouldn't he have come home by now? He's not at school, he's not at the Wheeler's or the Henderson's or the Sinclair's. But... maybe..."

Jonathan pulled at his mom's arm. "Come on, let's check - just to be sure."  

Autumn leaves crunched under their feet as they navigated the small hills behind their house, crossing dry creek beds and avoiding large roots and rocks.

They called his name occasionally until they came within sight of Castle Byers, as Will had named it. The blue tarp covering the side closest to them shifted with the wind, pulling and snapping with each new gust. His mother jogged ahead.

Jonathan circled to the other side of the fort, peaking inside the branch walls. From what he could tell, there was no one inside. He was certain that if Will was there, he would have come out when they called for him.

His mother pulled the old sheet acting as a door aside, her expression falling as she gazed into the empty space.

"WILL!" Jonathan yelled, cupping his hands to his mouth, hoping to amplify his voice. "WILL!"

"Will!" Joyce screamed behind him, the desperation leaking through. "WILL! Where are you?"

"WILL!"

He walked back toward his mom and pulled her into a hug. She clutched the collar of his jacket. "I don't know what do you, Jonathan, I just -" her voice cracked, cut off by a sob.

He pulled her closer, sighing into her hair.

"We-we need to make posters - you know those posters they make for missing kids? We need to find a picture of Will - a recent picture - and we need to make posters -"

"Ok, Mom," Jonathan said, shifting so that his arm was draped over her shoulder. "Come on, let's go home. I'll make up the poster."

"Ok, good, good," she muttered, sniffling as she rubbed her hands anxiously. "I'll-I'll call Lonnie, Lord knows I don't want to -" she started mumbling and Jonathan let her continue to talk as he guided them back home.

Once they were inside, his mother disappeared into her room to find Lonnie's phone number. Jonathan went into Will's room and rummaged through his desk, finding some stock paper, a pencil, some markers, and a ruler.

He found that he couldn't just sit in Will's room - somehow it just felt wrong without his brother there, so he took the items he had found into the living room and set them out on the coffee table. He wrote out what he thought the poster should say on a scrap of paper and then began to line the stock paper with the pencil using the ruler.

His mom came storming down the hall, a piece of paper clutched in her hand. She spun the dial to the rotary phone and waited for an answer with a hand on her hip.

"Is Lonnie there?" He heard Joyce ask, not bothering with anything as tedious as greetings.

"Can you please -" Jonathan glanced over as his mom pulled in a small breath. Her lips pulled into a thin line. "Who is this?" she asked through clinched teeth. "Cynthia, this is Joyce ... Lonnie's ex-wife. I really need to speak to him -"

Jonathan's frown deepened as he listened to his mother arguing with who was probably his dad's new girlfriend. He carefully began to write out 'Have you seen me?' with one of Will's blue markers.

Joyce's hand curled into a fist as she attempted to control her building anger. "Can you please put - No, not later," his mom nearly growled into the phone, "Now! Can - _Bitch_!" she yelled, as she slammed the phone back into the cradle.

"Mom," Jonathan said, brow furrowing in concern.

"What?" she snapped, glancing at him.

"You have to stay calm," he urged. He was really starting to worry about her.

Joyce just rolled her eyes and forcefully turned the rotary, redialing the phone number clutched in her hand.

She gave an exasperated laugh before speaking into the phone. "Lonnie, some _teenager_ just hung up on me. Will is-is  missing. I don't know where he is. I need- I just need you to call me back, please, just - Damn it! Damn it!"

Movement out the front window caught Jonathan's eye. He slowly stood, starting through the pane of glass.

"Mom?"

"What?" she snapped, her hand poised to redial the same number.

"Cops." It came out softly, like a whisper, like a prayer. _Oh God, please no..._

Joyce ran to the front door, Jonathan at her heels. They hesitated on the porch for a moment, staring at Hopper and his deputies. Hopper was at the back of his vehicle, pulling something from the truck bed. Their eyes fell to Will's bike as the Chief carried it toward them.

Hopper paused for a moment, before he carefully leaned the bicycle against the porch post.

He cleared his throat, his eyes on their feet only momentarily before flitting briefly to Jonathan's face and finally, resting on Joyce.

"We, eh, found what we believe to be Will's bike."

Joyce nodded, glancing at the bicycle. "Yes, yeah, that's Will's bike - where did you find it?"

"Off of Cornwallis and Kerley," Hopper replied.

"Mirkwood," Jonathan muttered.

Hopper glanced at him before turning back to Joyce. "Do you mind if we come in?"

"Of course," Joyce said, waving them to follow her inside.

Hopper nodded and removed his hat, running his fingers through his thinning hair. "We found his bike just off the road, lying on the ground." He followed the Byers back inside, his two deputies trailing him.

Joyce whirled around, staring at Hopper incredulously. "It was just lying there?"

Jonathan frowned. That didn't found like Will. He was always very careful with his bike. 

"Yeah," Hopper muttered, glancing around their sparse living room. "Cal?" One of his deputies nodded and stepped into the tiny dining area. Jonathan watched him, slightly puzzled as he began to look around the small space.

Joyce stared at the police chief, waiting for an additional explanation.  "Did-did it have any blood on it, or -" she followed him as he began to move further into the house.

"No, no, no, no, no..." he reassured her absently. "Phil?" he said, as some kind of command. Jonathan glanced behind him as the other deputy lingered in the living room, slowly walking around, looking at the poster he had left unfinished on the coffee table.

Jonathan frowned and finally spoke up. "If you found the bike out there, why are you here?"

"Well, he had a key to the house, right?" Hopper stated, walking a circle around their kitchen.

"Yeah..." Jonathan replied, his frown deepening.

"So..." Hopper concluded, glancing out the window before turning toward the back door. "... Maybe he came home."

Joyce stopped in the middle of the kitchen, clearly affronted. "You think I didn't check my own house?"

The Chief shook his head. "I'm not saying that," he murmured, pausing as he stared at the wood paneling on the wall. He extended a hand toward a small mark on the wall that Jonathan hadn't noticed before. "Has this always been here?" he asked, tracing the mark with his finger. 

His mother blinked in confusion. "What? I don't know. Probably. I mean, I have two boys," she said, in way of explanation. "Look at this place."

Jonathan frowned. He knew their house wasn't the nicest, but it was home and that was enough for him. He turned and walked down the hall to his bedroom.

He heard the screen door creak open and their dog barking in the yard. He sat down on his bed, flipped on his record player and pulled on his headphones. He stared up at the ceiling and crossed his arms over his chest. Static crackled through his headphones and then the Clash began to play.

One of the deputies - Cal - pushed open the door to his bedroom. Jonathan glanced at him before turning his attention back to the water stain on his ceiling. He closed his eyes and just listened to the music.

+++

Several hours later, after Jonathan had cooked a dinner, which neither of them ate, he and his mom sat in the living room, sifting through their photo box, trying to find a picture of Will that could serve as a headshot for the 'Missing Child' poster.

He was going through some school pictures from a few years ago when he heard his mom sigh.

"Jonathan, wow." He glanced down at what she was looking at. Several photographs that he had taken with his prized camera were in her hands. "You took these?" she asked, glancing at him. He gave a small nod. She smiled though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "They are great. Wow, they really are."

Jonathan turned back to the school pictures in his hand and carefully flipped through to find a good, recent picture of Will.

Joyce slowly folded into herself, sniffling softly. "I-I know I haven't been there for you," she whispered. Jonathan stopped and slowly laid the pictures back on the coffee table.

His mom threw up a hand, her voice tired and barely holding back a sob. "I've been working so h-hard and I- I just feel bad." Joyce turned to him, tears wet on her cheeks. He stared at the worn carpet, his jaw working at he fought to keep his own emotions at bay.

"I don't even barely know what's going on with you..." Joyce tentatively touched Jonathan's knee before pulling back. Jonathan felt something inside himself break. "All right? I am sorry about that..." he heard his mom say.

Jonathan hunched his shoulders and released a shaky breath, hoping his mom wouldn't notice.

She did. Of course she did. "Hey, what is it? What is it, honey?"

"Nothing." He almost choked on his own lie. _It's me._ He wanted to scream. _It's my fault. It's my fault Will was taken, it's my fault Will's not here with us right now... If I'd only been here..._

"Tell me."

Jonathan shook his head, chin quivering.

"Tell me," his mother begged, rubbing his back encouragingly. "Come on. You can -"

"No," he managed to say without sobbing. But... he had to say something... his heart felt like it was being crushed. His little brother. Will. His kid brother that wouldn't hurt a fly... "It's just..." Jonathan's voice cracked as he hung his head, trying to swallow the sob stuck in his throat. "...I should've been there for him."

"No-" Jonathan shook his head. He didn't want to hear his mother refute the fact that this was all his fault. If he hadn't picked up that shift. If only he had been home, he could have stopped... whatever it was, he would have at least been there. _For Will_.

"Oh, no," his mother shushed, rubbing Jonathan's arm. "You can't do that to yourself. This was not your fault." Tears rolled down his nose as he tried to compose himself. "Do you hear me? He is... _close_. I know it. I-I feel it in my heart." Jonathan's own heart wrenched and his chin trembled. He sniffled as he leaned slightly against his mother's shoulder, wanting to believe what she was saying. "You just have to- You have to trust me on this, okay?"

He sniffed again, but nodded slowly. "Yeah," he whispered. He faintly heard thunder rumble overhead.

Joyce nodded, rubbing his arm once more before reaching for a picture. "Oh, look at this. Look at this one." She held up a small picture of Will, taken in the spring. He's smiling at the camera, his eyes warm and kind as ever. She gave a little laugh. "Look at this one," his mom repeated softly, stoking the picture longingly. "I mean, that's it, right?" 

Jonathan leaned into her. He found that he could smile as he gazed down at the picture of his brother wearing a hand-me-down orange sweater. "Yeah," he nodded.

"That's it. That's the one." The phone rang and Joyce passed the picture of Will to Jonathan as she hurried to answer.

"Hello? Hello?" Jonathan glanced up at his mom as her brow furrows, concern replacing her smile. "Lonnie?" Joyce asked, her expression concerned and perplexed as she tried to listen through static.

"Dad?" Jonathan breathed, not quite believing that his father would actual call his mom back.

"Hopper? Who is this?" Jonathan rose from the sofa, moving to his mother. She paused for one dreadful second before whispering, "Will?"

Jonathan froze. He held his breath.

"Will?" Joyce's voice began to sound hysterical.

"It's Will?" Jonathan took a step toward her, but his mom turned and twisted away from him, frantic, as she tried to hear. "Mom, it's Will?"

Joyce sobbed, her expression darkening. "Who is this? What have you done to my boy?"

Jonathan's stomach twisted in a sickening knot. "What? What?" he pleaded, not understanding.  _Who was on the phone?_

"Give me back my son!" she screamed into the receiver, sobbing in desperation when suddenly a spark of electricity flashed a brilliant blue. There was a sharp static snap from the phone and a yelp from his mother as she dropped the phone, holding her lip.

Jonathan jumped forward, grasping at the phone as he lifted it to his ear. "Hello? Hello, who is this?" The line sounded dead, so he hit the cradle a couple times, hope fading as only silence answered him.  "Hello?"

Joyce sobbed behind him. Jonathan turned to her, grabbing at her arms. "Mom, who was it?" She briefly met his eye. "Who was it, Mom?" he asked, his heart pounding in his chest.

"It was him." She sobbed, attempting to reach past him toward the phone. 

"Look at me, Mom," Jonathan urged, fresh tears in his eyes. "Was it Will?"

"Yes," she said with such conviction that he was inclined to believe her.

"What did he say?" He asked, desperately trying to get his mother to stand still for just one goddamn second.

"He just breathed," she sobbed. "He just breathed." She finally pushed past him and grabbed the phone.

Jonathan's voice cracked with a sob. "And was someone else there? Mom, who was there? Who was it?"

"It was him," she insisted as she sobbed. She collapsed against him, the charred phone hanging loosely in her grasp. "I know it was his breathing. I know it was his breathing..."

Thunder roared.

His mother sobbed.

And Jonathan had never felt so helpless in his entire live.


	2. 48 Hours

They went about their normal routine the next morning, except it wasn't normal, because Will was still missing.

Jonathan tried to ignore the uneasiness that had settled in his stomach. After that phone call last night, his mom had driven to the nearest payphone and called the Police Station. She described the call to Florence ask best she could and asked that Hopper call her back as soon as he could.

That was hours ago and his mom had done nothing but pace around the living room and kitchen, chain-smoking. He knew she hadn't slept at all last night because neither had he. Jonathan hadn't even bothered to change out of yesterday's clothes.

He glanced at her as he finished scrambling some eggs, his brow furrowing as he took in the way she hunched over the poster he had finished last night. She stared at the paper, running her fingers over the picture of Will as her cigarette dangled precariously in her other hand. He sighed as he shoveled the food onto a plate and brought it in front of her.

"All right, Mom. Breakfast is ready."

"What?" Joyce's head shook her head, pushing the plate away. "No, be careful of the poster."

"Yeah, okay. All right," Jonathan said, pulling the plate away from the assortment of papers in front of his mother. He stood above her, waiting expectantly.

She glanced up at him after a moment of him staring down at her. "I can't eat," she told him hopelessly, as if he should already be well aware of that fact.

Jonathan fought back the defeated sigh on his lips. "I just need you to eat, Mom," he pleaded softly.

Joyce shook her head, the hand that held her cigarette trembling slightly. "Listen. Listen," she said, tapping the paper before her. "The Xerox place opens in, like, 30 minutes."  

"Yeah," Jonathan acknowledged, leaning over her.

"And I don't want you to go alone -"

Jonathan sighed wearily. He really didn't want to fight his mom on this - he knew how she must be feeling right now, but he wasn't a kid anymore... "No, I know. I told you, I got it."

"- So I'm gonna have Karen take you, 'cause I should be here." Joyce had talked about going, but Jonathan volunteered to go since Joyce wanted to be at home in case Hopper stopped by with news about Will.

"Okay," He relented quietly.

"We need to make, what, 200, 300 copies?" She took a deep draw from her cigarette, her hand still shaking slightly. "How much is a copy?" Joyce began to ramble, trying to run the calculations in her head.

"Mom. Mom. Mom!" He gently pushed down on the wrist of the hand which was clutching several crumpled dollar bills. She finally looked up at him. Jonathan signed. "You can't get like this, okay?"

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry..."

"No, it's okay," he reassured her, squeezing her shoulder gently, when loud thumping on the front door caused them both to jump.

Joyce rushed to the door and threw it open, revealing Hopper on the other side.

"We've been waiting six hours," Joyce accused, Jonathan feeling her anger even though he had lingered in the kitchen.

"I know - I came as soon as I could," Hopper said, his hat in his hands.

"SIX HOURS." Joyce nearly yelled. Her eyes brimmed with tears.

Hopper frowned at his mother, his shoulder sagging slightly from exhaustion and the weight of a missing child. "A little bit of trust here, all right? We've been searching all night. Went all the way to Cartersville."

"And?" Joyce demanded.

Hopper's eyes dropped to the ground. "Nothing," he muttered.

Jonathan swallowed the lump stuck in his throat. Every second that passed meant that Will was more likely... _no, no he couldn't think like that, wouldn't let himself get carried down that dark road..._

"God," his mother gasped, a hand to her mouth to hold back a sob.

The Chief cleared his throat uncomfortably as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Flo says you got a phone call?"

"Oh, yeah." Joyce nodded, motioning to the yellow phone mounted to the wall.

Hopper picked up the handset, turning it over as he examined the blackened receiver. "Huh - Storm barbecued this pretty good," he commented, returning the phone to its cradle.

"The storm?" Joyce repeated.

Hopper nodded, his expression slightly incredulous as he glanced at Joyce. "What else?"

She scoffed. "You're saying that that's not _weird_?" she challenged.

Hopper inclined his head. "No, it's weird," he admitted, but didn't volunteer anything more in way of explanation.

Jonathan leaned forward, stating the obvious that everyone was seeming to overlook. "Can we, like, trace who made the call? Contact the -"

"No, it doesn't work like that," Hopper sighed, passing a large hand over his eyes. "Now, uh, you're sure it was Will? Because Flo said you just heard some breathing..."

Joyce shook her head, adamant. "No, it was _him_. It was Will.  And he was scared. And then something -"

Hopper cut her off, his face pinched in ... pity? Empathy? Sometimes it was hard to read the Hawkins Police Chief. "It was probably just a prank call. It was somebody trying to scare you."

His mother looked affronted, horrified at the idea of someone being that cruel.

"Who would do that?" he stammered out.

"Well, this thing's been on TV. It brings out all the crazies, you know. False leads, prank calls, uh -"

"No, Hopper, it was not a prank. It was him."

"Joyce," Hopper said, his tone chastising.

"Come on, how about a little trust here?" Joyce demanded, repeating Hopper's words back to him as she gestured between them. “What, you think I'm-I'm making this up?"

Hopper raised his hands defensively. "I'm not saying that you're making it up... All I'm saying is it's an emotional time for you..."

"And you think I don't know my own son's breathing? Wouldn't you know your own daughter's?"

Jonathan's eyes widened slightly as he chanced a glance up at Hopper's face. It was a low blow from his mom, considering...

Hopper chewed on his bottom lip for a moment, attempting to compose himself. He walked away several steps, turning his hat in his hands. "You hear from, uh, Lonnie yet?" He asked, changing the subject.

"No," Joyce said in a told-you-so voice.

"It's been long enough," Hopper decided, turning on his heels. "I'm having him checked out."

"Oh, come on! You're wasting your time!" Joyce yelled after him. She dropped into a kitchen chair, sniffling as she pulled her purse onto her lap and began fishing coins out of the bottom of the bag.

Jonathan squeezed her shoulder for a moment before running to catch up with the Police Chief. "Hey, Hopper!" he called, "Hopper!"

The older man stopped and returned, looking at him from over his shoulder.

"Let me go," he said.

Hopper's brow crinkled in confusion for a moment. "I'm sorry?"

"To Lonnie's," Jonathan clarified. "You know, if Will's there, it means he ran away. And if he sees the cops, he'll think he's in trouble - He'll-He'll hide," he stuttered as he tried to get the words out as quickly as possible. "You know, he's good at hiding," he added, remembering...

Hopper stuck a cigarette between his teeth. "Yeah? Well, cops are good at finding." He took a step toward Jonathan and grabbed his shoulders, his fingers digging into his skin. "Okay? Stay here with your mom." He tapped his fist above Jonathan's heart, making his stagger back a step. "She needs you," he stated as he climbed into his truck.

Jonathan stared after the vehicle as it disappeared down the country road. He frowned as he slowly turned back to the house. He didn't believe that Will would go to Lonnie's house, because, come one, their dad did nothing but bully the poor kid, but Jonathan had to check, just to be sure... Once he got the posters made at the Xerox place, he was going to head to Indianapolis.

++

Karen Wheeler picked up Jonathan a few minutes before 7:30 am. Three-year-old Holly sat in the backseat, playing with a small doll.

Jonathan stared out the window, his mind trying to figure out what he would stay to his good-for-nothing father if he happened to see him later.

Karen Wheeler cleared her throat, clearly uncomfortable with the silence between them that Jonathan much preferred.

"I am so sorry about your brother, sweetie - don't worry, the police will find him." Mrs. Wheeler smiled at him with what he guessed was supposed to be a reassuring smile, but her eyes told a different story.

Jonathan stared at his folded hands in his lap and simply nodded.  

"Do you have enough to eat at your house? Oh, I know, I could make you a casserole," she offered. She glanced at him expectantly.

Jonathan's throat felt dry, but he forced himself to speak. "Yeah, sure, that sounds great, Mrs. Wheeler - thank you," he added quickly.

She smiled to herself as they pulled up to the small Xerox center. Jonathan slid out of the station wagon, grabbing his canvass messenger bag before shutting the door carefully.

Mrs. Wheeler unbuckled Holly and then followed him inside, the toddler balanced on her hip.

Charles Hudson looked up from behind the glass counter, nodding in greeting as he eyed Jonathan with a sickening amount of pity.

Jonathan released a small breath he was holding before pulling the poster from his bag. "I need 300 copies made of this poster," he said, his voice breaking. Ms. Wheeler rubbed his shoulder and he fought the urge to pull away from her touch, knowing she would take it as a rude gesture. He rummaged through his bag to retrieve the two pictures of Will his mom had decided on. He handed them over to Charles Hudson. "They should be positioned underneath the heading."

Charles nodded. "You got it kid. This may take a while, so feel free to take a seat," he said, pointing to a row of plastic chairs with curved metal legs. Mrs. Wheeler took a seat by the window, straightening Holly's pigtails.

Jonathan preferred to pace while he waited, walking the length of the lobby. He watched as Charles Hudson aligned the photographs in the center of the page and carefully set it into position on the Xerox machine. Buttons beeped and then the machine whirled to life, the first copy sliding into the receiving tray. Charles retrieved it and passed the page to Jonathan.

"How's that look for ya?" he asked, taking a sip of coffee from a mug with a company logo branded into the ceramic.

Jonathan glanced over the letting, making sure that everything was legible and that Will's pictures were clear. He nodded his agreement and Charles pushed some more buttons on the machine. Jonathan resumed his pacing as the Xerox machine began to print page after page, the mechanical hum strangely pleasant.

As he paced passed Mrs. Wheeler and Holly for what must have been the fifteenth time, she patted the seat beside her. "Why don't you sit down, Jonathan? You'll get yourself all worked up..."

He gave her a small smile, but shook his head.

Half an hour later and about a hundred laps around the small store lobby, the copies were done. Jonathan pulled some money from his pocket and smoothed out a ten, 2 five dollar bill and a handful of ones. His cheeks burned as he dropped the coins on the counter, counting out dollars in quarters and dimes and nickels. In the end, he was still short about eight cents.

Charles Hudson smiled sadly at him and told him not to worry about it.

Mrs. Wheeler obliged when he asked her to stop at every gas station and dinner on the way back to his house. Everywhere he went, people whispered in low voices when his back was turned, pinning the poster to a bulletin board or taping it to a window. He could feel their eyes on him. He heard a few horrible comments, mostly about his mother or his father, but keep his mouth shut. _They don’t know what the hell they are talking about anyway. Just a bunch of assholes,_ he thought bitterly as he climbed back into the Wheeler's station wagon.  

Karen Wheeler gave Jonathan a half-hearted grin as she pulled in front of the Byer's house. "Are you sure you don't need anything else? I don't mind driving you to school."

Jonathan shook his head. "Thank you, Mrs. Wheeler, but I've got my car. I'm just going to hang a couple more posters and then head to school."

Her lips pressed into a thin line, but she nodded. "Well, take care, honey," she called after him as Jonathan slid out of the vehicle. "Oh, and tell your mother that I'll bring over a casserole!"

He nodded and waved as she backed out of their dirt driveway and turned back toward the suburbs of Hawkins. Jonathan retrieved his car keys from his jacket pocket and squinted up at the sun, its traitorous rays shining brightly against the cold, blue November sky.

He hung a few more posters before he pulled into the Hawkins High School parking lot. He was very late for the start of school, but he had no intention of actually going to class today. There were a couple student bulletin boards he thought would be a good place to hang some of the posters and then he was heading to Indianapolis.

As he was hanging Will's poster on the last bulletin board, he felt someone approach him. A lot of kids had been staring at him today, whispering in hushed voices as he walked past them in the hall. He was inclined to ignore whoever it was that had approached him.

A soft 'hey' made him turn his head.

Nancy Wheeler was standing, not four feet away from him, her books clutched to her chest as she looked at him with those big blue eyes.

He stared at her for a second before remembering to speak. "Oh, hey." He slowly turned to face her, knowing that he was still staring at her a little too much.

She bit her lip, unsure at first. "I just- I wanted to say, you know, um... I'm sorry about everything."

Jonathan’s gaze slowly shifted to the group of teens staring at them from down the hall.

"Everyone's thinking about you," Nancy offered quickly, her eyes earnest in a way that made Jonathan want to believe her, even if it wasn't true.

"It sucks," she said.

"Yeah," Jonathan whispered.

"I'm sure he's fine," Nancy continued. "He's a smart kid."

He gave a slight nod, a nasty lump raising in his throat. The bell rang, a call to students for their next class.

Nancy glanced behind her. "I have to go, Chemistry test," she explained.

"Yeah," Jonathan agreed, even though he wasn't in Chemistry and didn't have a test. God, he still couldn't believe Nancy Wheeler was talking to him at school...

"Good luck," she said, slowly back away down the hall.

"Thanks." He exhaled a breath he didn't realize he was holding as he watched her walk away, back to her friends. He stared down at his feet for a moment before turning his attention back to Will's poster. He made sure the pushpin was firmly in place and smoothed the paper before shifting his bag higher onto his shoulder. Jonathan Byers made his exit as the Principal's voice crackled through the speaker system.

_Attention, faculty and students. At 8:00 p.m. tonight, there will be an assembly on the football field in support of Will Byers and his family. All are encouraged to attend. Volunteer sign-ups for search parties are still available in the office._

++

As he pulled onto the road leading out of Hawkins, the silence of static crackled on the radio as the song changed. The silence transitioned to the opening beat of a Clash song and for a second, his heart stopped in his chest. A rush of memories hit him as he remembered when he had introduced this song to his little brother.

 

_Darling, you got to let me know_

_Should I stay or should I go?_

 

A sad smile tugged at his lips as he sped past the city limits.

 

_Should I cool it or should I blow?_

_So you gotta let me know_

_Should I stay or should I go?_   

++

Dreary skies hung over Indianapolis as Jonathan navigated the strange streets. Much more fitting weather for this crappy day... days now, Jonathan corrected. God, had it already been 2 days since Will went missing? Wherever Will was, Jonathan hoped he was safe, and warm, and not scared...

He slowly drove down the street that matched the name from his mom's address book. He squinted at the house numbers, counting off until he pulled in front of the right one.

Jonathan sat in his car for a moment, gathering his courage. It had been over a year since he had seen his dad. It had been nearly two years since the last time his father had hit him. He was resolved that his father would _never_ hit him again.

With his heart hammering inside of his chest, Jonathan finally gathered the last of his courage and stepped into the light rain. He crossed the street and took the steps up the hill two at a time. Squaring his shoulders, he banged on the painted door with an open palm. He could hear the television blaring on the other side.

"Hello?" he yelled, looking through the diamond-shaped glass. He banged on the door again.

"Yeah," he heard a female voice answer before she emerged from the kitchen. A young woman wearing acid-wash jeans and way too much blue eye shadow - who actually didn't look all that much older than him - answered the door, smacking bubblegum between pink lips. "Can I help you?" she asked, looking him up and down.

"Yeah, is Lonnie around?" He bit back with more confidence than he truly felt.

"Yeah," she said, "He's out back. What do you want?" She stared at him suspiciously.  

"To look around," he retorted, pushing past her into the house.

"Hey, what do you think you're doing?" she exclaimed. "Hey!"

"I'll be fast," he muttered, taking a quick glance around the living room and kitchen. The look and feel of everything was modern, but second-hand. And not a lot of places to hid.

Jonathan stepped out of the kitchen into a narrow hallway. "Hey, Will? Will!" he called. He tried a closed door to his right, only to find it locked. He jiggled the handle and then pounded on the door. "Will, you here?" He glanced into the opposite bedroom where a mattress lay directly on the floor with a haphazard mess of blankets thrown on top. Aside from the locked door, he didn't see anywhere that Will could possibly be hiding. "Will!" he yelled, turning back down the hall.

The man slammed into him without warning, almost knocking the air from his lungs as he was shoved against the wall. He stared up into his father's face. Jonathan felt the pressure from Lonnie's hand at the base of his throat lessen so he took advantage of his dad’s momentary surprise to shove him away. "Get off!" he heard himself growl.

Lonnie looked him up and down, a strange kind of pride filling his eyes. "Damn, you've gotten stronger." Lonnie tapped Jonathan in the chest, similar to what Hopper had done earlier that morning, only this time, it filled Jonathan with white-hot rage.

The young woman stood in the kitchen doorway, her expression demanding an answer. "Will someone please explain what the hell is going on?"

Lonnie nodded toward her. "Jonathan, Cynthia. Cynthia, this is Jonathan. My oldest."

Jonathan glanced at her and saw her eyes widen in realization.

Lonnie brushed the damp from Jonathan's jacket before resting his hands on his shoulders. He smiled at him, like he was actually happy to see his disappointment of a son. "Come here," he said, pulling Jonathan into an embrace.

Jonathan blinked as his father's arms encircled him. He didn't ever remember his dad hugging him before. The gears in his brain suddenly began to turn again and he shoved Lonnie away. "Get off me, man," he ground out, his breathing heavy. His father drew something dark and ugly from inside of him and Jonathan hated him for it.

"I'm here about Will."

Lonnie sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Come on, kid, let's talk in the backyard." Lonnie kicked open the backdoor and disappeared into the mist of November rain.

Jonathan glanced back down the hall and found Cynthia still standing in the doorway, staring curiously at him.

He frowned at her and then followed his dad into the yard. The back of the neighborhood ran along a scrap metal collection facility. A large piece of machinery was moving long metal polls from one side of the yard to the other.

An immaculate car sat in Lonnie's backyard next to a single oak tree. Jonathan eyed it suspiciously. A kid could hid in a car. He circled the vehicle, looking in the windows, checking the backseat.

His father mistook his attention for admiration. "Take a look at this beaut," he boasted, thumbs hooked in his belt loops. "Should've seen it when I got it. Took me a year, but it's almost done."

Jonathan wanted to roll his eyes. His father couldn't spare a couple hours to see his sons, but he could spend a whole year working on that damn car.

He twisted the key left in the trunk and popped it open. No Will. As he suspected, but he had to be sure...

His dad raised an eyebrow. "Really? You want to check up my ass, too? I told you the same thing as I told those cops, he's not here and he never has been."

"Then why didn't you call Mom back?" Jonathan shot back, growing angrier by the second, but trying desperately not to lose his temper because he refused to be anything like his father.

"I don't know, I just I assumed she just forgot where he was." Jonathan stared at his father, dumbfounded. _Forgot where he was? Seriously?_  "You know, he was lost or something...That boy never was very good at taking care of himself," Lonnie chuckled.

"This isn't some joke, all right?" Why wasn't his father understanding this? How did Lonnie not know how serious this situation was? _Will was missing_. "There are search parties, reporters- "

"Hopper's not still chief, is he?" Jonathan's silence was enough of an answer for his father. Lonnie gave a deep sigh. "Tell your mother she's gotta get you out of that hellhole. Come out here to the city. People are more real here, you know? And then I could see you more."

Jonathan's head snapped up at that comment, his face twisting in disbelief. He opened his mouth to speak before deciding against it and simply shook his head. _No, never. Not in a million years._  

Lonnie scoffed. "What, you think I don't want to see you?"

Jonathan leaned forward, staring Lonnie directly in the eye. "I _know_ you don't."

Lonnie shook his head. "Nah, see, that's your mother talkin' right there." He paused before asking, "She even know you're here?" Jonathan's head dropped slightly. _Damnit, you have to be stronger than that_ , he scolded himself. He raised his eyes again, looking at Lonnie through a curtain of wet hair. Lonnie rolled his eyes and threw his hands up in the air. "Oh, great. So one kid goes missing, the other one runs wild? Some real fine parenting right there." Jonathan stared daggers at Lonnie, his heart still pounding in his chest. "Look," Lonnie sighed, "All I'm saying is, maybe I'm not the asshole, all right?"

Jonathan had had enough. Remembering the posters, he pulled one from his bag. "In case you forgot what he looks like," he muttered, pushing the paper into his father's chest before stalking away. His ears burned and his eyes smarted. As soon as he got back in his car, Jonathan spun the car back toward Hawkins. Hopper had been right. He shouldn't have gone to Indianapolis.

++

It was much later than he intended it to be when he got back into Hawkins. As he drove home, he passed the spot where Hopper had found Will's bike. On a sudden impulse, Jonathan pulled his car over to the curb and parked. He retrieved his camera and some spare film from the trunk. Holding his camera carefully in one hand, he slid into the ditch on his heels. He stumbled for a foot or two before regaining his balance. Taking a deep breath, he slowly took in his surroundings, making note of anything that appeared out of place. He bent down, taking a picture of some twigs that had been bent in an awkward angle.

"Where are you?" he muttered, wishing desperately that he could talk to Will, just figure out where he was.

He advanced his film forward and circled the area where Will's bike had been discovered. As he leaned forward to capture another image, he heard a scream. He paused for a moment, frozen, staring in the direction of the noise. Then a second time. Before he knew it, Jonathan was running toward the screaming. He wove through the branches and jumped over fallen branches. He didn't realize he was approaching a house until he was at the tree line, a few sapling all that was separating him from the yard.

Some kids from his school were standing next to a pool - that asshat Tommy and his girlfriend - he never care enough to actually remember her name -, Steve Harrington, Barb Holland and Nancy... Jonathan stood transfixed, watching as they laughed and cheered Nancy on as she shot-gunned a beer. His gaze drifted to Barb, who sat in one of the pool chair, her arms crossed over her chest. She looked just about as uncomfortable and out-of-place as Jonathan felt.

Nancy turned to Barb, extending a beer to her. After what seemed like a bit of coxing, Barb reluctantly stood and accepted the beer from Nancy. Jonathan watched as Barb dropped the can, clutching her hand to her chest. Nancy stepped forward, extending her hand toward Barb, but she shrugged her off. Steve pointed toward the house and Barb quickly disappeared inside. Nancy looked after Barb as Steve approached her. Before Jonathan quite realized what he was doing, he was looking at Nancy through the camera lens. It was dark and he couldn't use a flash, so the picture quality would be grainy but... The shutter clicked and Jonathan advanced the film.

Eventually, the four classmates ended up in the pool. They laughed as they splashed around in the warm water, steam rising from the pool. Something like guilt pulled at Jonathan's conscience, but he pushed it away, fixated on the girl in the water in Steve Harrington's arms. She giggled and laughed and Jonathan's heart ached.

It must be nice, to be on that side of the social circle... to have friends. Jonathan's shutter snapped again. They seemed so happy... Nancy's laughter filled the air and he wished... well, he wished a lot of things, really...

Soon, even the warm water wasn't enough to stop the cold from seeping in, so Steve retrieved some pool towels and they disappeared into what Jonathan now assumed was Steve Harrington's house. A light appeared in an upstairs room and soon, Nancy appeared within the frame. She was staring out the window, into the tree line. Her expression was different now... her face didn't light up in laughter anymore. Instead, it was more serious, more determined? But no less beautiful... The shutter clicked. And then Nancy slowly drew her shirt over her head. Jonathan's mouth went dry. A figure pulled her into his arms and away from the window.

Jonathan blinked and the spell was broken. The guilt of what he was doing began to surface, but he shoved it down again. When he glanced up, Nancy's friend, Barb, was sitting on the diving board, her feet dangling in the pool. Her expression was so different from the others... disappointed, heartbroken, and lonely. Her toes skimmed the surface of the water.

Jonathan raised his camera again, this time, focusing the frame around Barb. The shutter jammed, signaling the end of the room. Jonathan glanced up at Barb before winding the roll. His head jerked up when he thought he heard the distant echo of another scream. Barb was no longer sitting on the diving board. Jonathan glanced around, but didn't see her anywhere. She must have left.

He gave one last lingering gaze to the upstairs window and then turned away, disappearing into the darkness.


	3. I Know What I Think About You

_Will? Will? Jonathan called for his brother, searching for him. He knew he was near, so close he could feel it... Jonathan shivered against the cold, gray night that pressed in around him. Shadows lurked in the dark corners. Will was just out of reach, on the other side of_ ... something...

_Will? Will? Jonathan pleaded, begged to the shadows. Please, whoever you are -whatever you are - just give me my brother back..._

Will?

Will?

Sweetheart, can you hear me?

_Jonathan paused, tilting his head. He could hear his mother's voice now, she was calling out to Will too... except..._

Jonathan blinked as the early morning light flooded his small bedroom. He shifted against his pillow, lifting his head slightly. _Mom?_ He rolled over, propped up by an elbow.

"Will- Please- Will- It's me."

Jonathan sat up straight in bed. _Will? Oh my god, did they find Will?_ He struggled to untangle his ankle from the sheets. He grabbed a shirt from his dresser and threw open his door. He stumbled down the hallway, pulling the shirt over his head as he entered Will's room.

He immediately stopped short. His mother was sitting at the end of Will's bed, surrounded by half a dozen lamps.

"It's me," she was saying, "Just talk to me. Talk to me. Just say -"

"Mom?" Jonathan's voice waivered. _What the hell?_ He had no idea what was going on, but this was  not normal. His mom had been known to do some weird things in the past, but this... nothing like this. And it was scaring the hell out of him...

"Jonathan!" she exclaimed, reaching for him, "Come here. Come here."

He took a tentative step forward. "Mom, what is this?" he asked, not able to keep the worry off his face. He gestured to the lamps. 

"Come here. Come here," she repeated.

"What's going on?" She gapped Jonathan's hand and pulled him down onto Will's bed beside her.

"It's Will. It's Will, he's -he's trying to talk to me."

Jonathan stared at her, his mouth agape. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. "He's trying to talk to you?"

"Yes, through-through the lights."

"Mom -" Jonathan shook his head, a feeling of helpless exasperation settling on him. 

"I know," Joyce said, looking pointedly at him, "I know. Just-just watch."

"Will, your brother's here. Can you show him what you showed me, baby?"

Jonathan slowly scanned the lights. Nothing happened.

Please -" she gasped, pointing at a bare bulb. "Did you see that?"

Jonathan half sobbed. "It's the _electricity_ , Mom. It's-It's acting up."

"No-"

"It's the same thing that fried the phone-"

"No!" she cried, "It is _not_ the electricity, Jonathan! Something is going on here! Yesterday, the wall -"

Jonathan stared at her incredulously. "What? What about the wall?" he bit back, raising his voice to meet his mother's.

"I don't know. I don't know," she said, her voice pleading as she pointed to a space on Will's wall. 

"Mom," Jonathan's voice was in danger of shaking. "First the lights, then the wall?" _Please don't do this to me, Mom. I'm still here and I need you too... I need to you to hold it together..._

"I just know that Will is here," she said adamantly.

"No, Mom..."

"Maybe if I get more lamps -" Joyce rose to leave, but Jonathan grabbed onto her shoulders.

"No, Mom! You don't need more lamps. You need to stop this, okay?" Jonathan cradled his mother's face in his hands, bending down to look her in the eye. "He's just ... _lost_. People are looking for him, and they're going to find him." _They have to find him, Hopper said... Hopper said the police were good at finding people. He'll find him. Hopper will find him..._

Joyce sniffled. "Okay."

"This isn't helping," Jonathan begged her to understand. _Please, Mom..._

"Okay, okay. Okay, I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

Jonathan stroked her hair gently. Dark rings had begun to form under his mother's eyes. "Can you do me a favor, Mom? Can you just try and get some sleep?"

"Yeah."

"Huh?" He pressed. "Can you do that for me?" 

Joyce nodded, sniffling. "I promise. I will."

"Yeah?" Jonathan rubbed his mother's back, just like she used to do to comfort him when he was little and had a bad dream.

"Yeah. I just ... need to sit here for a minute."

"All right, I'll go make breakfast," he offered, although he wasn't sure if he would be able to convince her to actually eat any of it.

"Okay."

"Yeah?" He stood and headed down the hall, brushing Will's door frame with his fingertips. Hopper would find Will; he had promised. He had promised to bring Will home.

++

His mom would have let him stay home from school, but he had already missed the past two days, so he went. He mindlessly attended his Algebra and English Composition classes, too distracted to pay much attention to the lectures. Kids whispered around him, but he kept his head down and ignored them the best he could.

As he made his way to his next class, he happened to walk passed the cafeteria during the early lunch period and caught Nancy's eye. He stopped in his tracks as they stared at each other for a second that dragged on for an eternity. She looked worried, concerned. He ducked his head and hurried on down the hall to his next class.

After Biology, Jonathan snuck into the dark room to develop the pictures he had taken. Thankfully, the room was empty. He always preferred to be in the dark room alone, although most of the kids in the Hawkins Photography Club seemed to understand his disposition and give him space if they happened to need the room at the same time. He hung his bag on the wall and pulled the roll of film from his pocket. The amber light from the single bare blub glowed dimly as he carefully unspooled the filmstrip. Using the enlarger, Jonathan sized and transferred the image of each negative onto the printing paper. He filled the developing and processing trays with the necessary chemical mixtures before transferring the pictures to the trays with a pair of metal tongs. The pictures slowly developed in the chemical wash, revealing a telephone poll with a pair of sneakers hung from the electrical wire, oddly snapped twigs on the forest floor, and Nancy Wheeler's slender frame. He watched the image come to life, her shoulders bare and pale against the contrast of her dark hair. He hung the paper on a drying wire with a wooden pin.

Nicole Grady nearly made him jump out of his skin when she suddenly appeared beside him.

"Hey," she said, not unkindly, as she set her bag down.

"Uh, hey," Jonathan relied. He followed Nicole's eyes to where his drying prints hung. _Oh. Shit. Oh shit. Ohshitohshitohshit_. He pulled the partially finished photographs off the wire and shoved them into his bag. His heart pounded wildly in his chest. He felt like he was going to be sick as he ran out of the dark room. He could only pray that she hadn't been able to make out anything in the dim light of the dark room.

He made it through the rest of the day without any other incidents, although plenty of kids still stared and whispered behind his back. He wasn't stupid, he knew what they were staying, about him, about his family, about Will - but they had no idea what the hell they were talking about, and no one had said anything to his face yet, so he just ignored them. The final bell rang and he was finally free to escape the school grounds. Maybe the police had found a lead on Will...

His heart sank to his toes when he saw Nicole standing by his car with Steve Harrington and Tommy H. He slowed his gait, making sure to keep a significant distance between himself and the others.

Steve Harrington pushed himself off of Jonathan's car. "Hey, man."

Jonathan eyed him warily. Steve Harrington had never initiated a conversation with him before - actually, come to think about it, he never remembers talking to Steve. Ever. "What's going on?" he asked.

"Nicole here was, uh, telling us about your work."

"We've heard great things." Tommy's girlfriend said in a cool, sardonic tone.

"Yeah, sounds cool," Tommy piped in, sneering at Jonathan.

"And we'd just love to take a look. You know, as ... connoisseurs of art."

Jonathan frowned at him. "I don't know what you're talking about," he lied. He attempted to push passed them to get to his car. His shoulder knocked against Tommy's and he felt his bag slip. Jonathan turned and tried to make a grab for his bag, but Tommy H. was too quick and swung it out of his reach.

"Oh, no?" Steve Harrington questioned.

"Hey, please, give me my bag," Jonathan begged, stepping forward. "No, just -"

Tommy H. laughed and tossed Jonathan's bag to Steve.  

"Man, he is totally trembling," Steve observed, "He must _really_ have something to hide."

Jonathan fought to keep his hands still at his sides. His heart hammered in his chest.

"Here we go." Steve dropped Jonathan's bag onto the truck of his car and pulled it open. "Ah," he murmured, pulling out the glossy paper. "Here we go."

Jonathan stared pointedly at the ground.

"Oh, man," Steve muttered, flipping through the photos that contained images of him and his friends and Nancy Wheeler.

"Let me see," Tommy said, grabbing for the photos. Nicole curiously glanced at the pictures over Steve's shoulder. Tommy let out a shocked laugh of surprise. "Dude!" he exclaimed.

His girlfriend grabbed the pictures out of his hand, her forehead wrinkling as she took it in. "Yeah, this isn't creepy at all," she scoffed with repulsion.

"I was looking for my brother -" Jonathan started to explain, but Steve cut him off.

"No. No, this is called _stalking_." He pointed a rolled up photograph at Jonathan in accusation. If it was any other circumstance, Jonathan would tell him not to roll a photograph like it was just any other piece of paper. But that was not important at the moment. He suspected that he was seconds away from getting his ass kicked.

"What's going on?"

Jonathan's heart stopped, he was absolutely sure of it. Nancy Wheeler had slowly approached the group, standing a slight distance away from the others.

"Here's the starring lady," Tommy sneered.

"What?"

"This creep was spying on us last night," Tommy's girlfriend smacked her bubblegum. "He was probably gonna save this one for later." She shoved a picture toward Nancy.

He stared at Nancy, horrified as she slowly accepted the photograph. She stared down at the grainy image of herself, back turned to the camera, exposed through the upstairs window at Steve Harrington's house. When she raised her eyes to meet his, the betrayal and confusion in her expression was enough to make him turn away. Jonathan hung his head in shame. _What must she think of him now?_  

"See," Steve clicking his tongue in disapproval, "You can tell that he knows it was wrong, but man, that's the thing about _perverts."_ Steve bit out as he stepped toward Jonathan. He braced himself for a blow. Instead, Steve straightened Jonathan's collar and brushed off his shoulder. _"_ It's hardwired into 'em...You know, they just can't help themselves." Steve stepped away and slowly ripped apart the pictures in his hands. Jonathan could hear Tommy laughing. Steve sighed, as if he took no pleasure in this mocking reprimand. "So we'll just have to take away his toy."

_No, not that. Jonathan could have taken it if it had come to blows, but not his camera..._

"Steve -" Nancy said softly, pleading.

"No, please, not the camera," Jonathan begged, stepping forwarded. Tommy H. jumped in front of him, hand shoved into Jonathan's chest.

"No, no, wait, wait Tommy," Steve said, patting his friend's shoulder. Jonathan's camera was cradled in Steve's other hand. "Tommy, it's okay," Steve stepped forward, extended the camera toward Jonathan.

Jonathan hesitated, not understanding. _It didn't make sense_...

"Here you go, man," Steve nodded to the camera.

He released a small sigh of relief. Jonathan's hand stretched forward, his fingers about to brush the Pentax camera when it rolled forward and fell from Steve's fingers. The sound of broken glass rang in Jonathan's ears as the lens cracked and the camera slammed into the unforgiving concrete. He stared at the ground, his jaw clinched, his arm still extended forward, grasping thin air.

"Come on, let's go. The game's about to start," Steve said in a cold voice, walking away.

Tommy H. smirked as he came within inches of Jonathan's face. "Boo," he snickered as he turned to follow Steve and Nicole as they walked down the hill, back toward the school.

Tommy's girlfriend ripped up the remaining pictures and tossed them into the air. " _Bye_."

As soon as their backs were turns, Jonathan dropped to the ground, gingerly collecting the pieces of his camera. It was absolutely ruined. Repairing the lens and the other parts inside the smash body would be too costly. His mom didn't have that type of money to spare and he sure as hell didn't. What he had done was wrong, he knew that, but that camera had been one of his most prized possessions. It felt like another crushing blow on top of everything else that had happened.

Nancy slowly stooped down beside him, picking up a piece of a ruined photograph. She stared at the fragment for a moment. 

"Hey, Nance! Come on." Steve called.

As Nancy knelt to collect the rest of the pieces to the picture, the look she gave him was full of sadness and confusion. He ducked his head, wishing he had the courage to tell her he was sorry. She walked away from him then and he felt his arms slump forward in defeat, the broken pieces of his camera littering the ground.

++

The road was dark as he drove home from work. Maybe he should have just stayed home with his mom. It had been a shitty day. There was really no other way of putting it. Just one horrible day after the next. His brother was missing. His mom was losing her mind. His father was a good-for-nothing-piece-of-shit. Their little family had fallen apart and there was nothing he could do to fix it. Everyone around town looked at him with a sickening amount of pity and those that didn't muttered horrible things about Will.

Movement in the road caught his eye. Someone was walking - no, running - down the middle of the road. He slowed his car before bringing it to a complete stop. He squinted against the darkness. _Was that his mom?_ Jonathan pushed open the car door and stepped out of the vehicle.

"Mom?"

Joyce's panicked, tear-streaked face shown pale in the wash of the headlights.

"Mom, what happened?" His mother fell into his arms, sobbing and clutching at his jacket. He hugged her to him, holding her up. "It's okay," he muttered. "Hey, I'm here, I’ve got you."

Joyce continued to cry against his chest, her words unintelligible.

He tried to comfort her the best he could.

And in the distance, he could hear the sounds of sirens approaching.


	4. City of the Dead

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See chapter 1 for disclaimer.

Jonathan leaned against an armchair on one side of the living room. Hooper spoke in a soft voice, his hat in his hands, explaining what they had found to Joyce. His mother stared blankly at the wall by their front window. Jonathan tried not to look at the alarming number of Christmas lights strung above his head.

"A trooper found something in the, uh - water that's at the quarry. Our working theory right now is that Will crashed his bike... he made his way over the quarry and, uh accidentally fell in. The earth must have given way. Joyce? Joyce? Do you understand what I'm saying?" Hopper reached out to his mother, gently touching her elbow.

"No," she whispered. "Whoever you found is not my boy. It's not Will."

"Joyce-"

"No, you don't understand. I talked to him a half hour ago." She hurried over to the cabinet in the wall, rummaging around as she continued to speak. "He was-He was _here_. He was-He was talking with these," she insisted, indicating a ball of tangled Christmas lights. Jonathan felt his heart skin, cold and heavy. _Not the lights again..._

"Talking?" Hopper asked slowly, attempting valiantly to keep the doubt from his voice.

"Uh-huh." Joyce nodded fiercely. "One blink for yes, two for no. And-And, uh and then I made this -" she gestured to the wall opposite the front window where a zig-zagged string of Christmas lights hung with the letters of the alphabet spelled out beneath it. The forgotten can of black paint sat next to the sofa. "- so he could talk to me. Cause he was hiding from that-that _thing_."

"The thing that came out of the wall?" Hopper said, trying to keep his tone neutral. "The thing that chased you?"

Jonathan pushed himself off the chair; he couldn't listen to his mom talk like this anymore...

"Yeah. Yeah," Joyce affirmed.

"Mom, come on, please," he murmured, reaching out to her. "You've gotta stop this."

"No, maybe he's- It's after him!" she cried, pleaded. Jonathan's arms dropped to his sides. He felt like he was slowly suffocating from the weight of the situation. "He's in _danger_. We have to find him! We -"

"What exactly was this thing?" Hopper questioned, with all the seriousness that years in law enforcement and life experience provide a man. "It was some kind of animal, you said?"

"Uh, no, it was... It was almost human, but it wasn't.  It- It had these long arms and ...it didn't have a face."

The final string inside of Jonathan snapped. He turned away as the first sob rose from his chest.

"It didn't have a face? - Joyce..."

Jonathan ran down the hall to his room and slammed the door as hard as he could. His legs gave out and he collapsed onto his bedroom floor, sobbing uncontrollably. _His baby brother was dead. He was gone, he was gone and his mother had really truly lost her mind_. He struggled to breathe as the sobs ripped through him; he didn't care if anyone heard him, it hurt too much.

Will. Will. His sweet, kind, little brother. Gone. Gone and never coming back. Never coming home. Jonathan would never again be able to introduce him to new music or make him another mixed tape. He wouldn't get to see him grow up and graduate high school or go on awkward first dates. Tears streaked down Jonathan's face, soaking his shirt. He would no longer hear a small knock on his door in the middle of the night, Will asking if he could sleep with Jonathan after he had a bad dream. No more kind brown eyes smiling at him from across the breakfast table. No more Will.

The sorrow that had ripped his heart in two was like nothing Jonathan had ever felt before. He knelt on the floor and cried until it felt like he had no more tears to cry.

Slowly, he crawled onto his bed and fumbled with his record player. Slipping the vinyl into place, he slid his headphone over his ears and let his head hit the pillow. The hum of the music did little to soothe him, but it was distracting enough, at least for the moment. _Atmosphere_ from the Joy Division droned through the speakers. Jonathan passed a hand over his eyes, wiping more tears away, before crossing his arms over his chest, hugging himself, holding himself together so he didn't fall completely apart...

++

"Mom! Wake up." Jonathan lightly touched her knee. His mother had fallen asleep on the couch, an axe loosely gripped in her hands.

Joyce jerked awake, gasping. She stared at him for half a second as if she didn't recognize who he was. "What-what time is it?"

"It's almost 8:00. We have to go."

She looked at him, confused. "Go where?"

Jonathan sighed. "To see Will."

Hopper, who it seemed had slept in his vehicle outside of their house last night, accompanied them to the county morgue.

They were escorted down the hall by a morgue employee, who asked them to wait outside of the examination room. A body lay on a metal table, covered with a thin blue sheet. The state coroner entered the examination room through a back door and stood behind the body. He glanced up at them and then slowly lifted the sheet and folded it neatly at the chest.

It was a boy - a small boy - with brown hair. His skin was gray, his arms and chest thin. Jonathan stared at the unmoving body of his little brother. Will's dead, lifeless body.

Bile rose in Jonathan's throat. He was going to be sick. He was seriously going to be sick. He ran out of the double doors and retched into the first waste basket he found. He coughed and shook, trying to get the image of Will's body, laying on that cold, steel table out of his mind.

Jonathan retreated to the lobby, unable to go back down to the morgue. The receptionist looked at him over the rims of her glasses, her expression sympathetic, but one used to death.  Jonathan slowly approached Hopper and took a seat next to him. The Chief was kind enough not to say anything about the tears that ran down his cheeks. Neither of them spoke for a while.

Finally, Hopper cleared his throat. "How's your mom doing?" he asked softly.

Jonathan gave a small shrug. "I don't know," he answered truthfully. She had been quiet on the drive into town, staring straight ahead.

"How long's this stuff been going on? With the lights and, uh- Will and the thing in the wall?"

"Since the first phone call, I guess." Jonathan said quietly. After a moment, he added, "You know, she's had anxiety problems... in the past. But this- I don't know...”He took a deep breath to steady himself. "I'm worried it could be- _Ugh_ , I don't know." _He didn't know if he would be strong enough to take it if he lost both his mom and his brother._ Tears pricked at his eyes again. He glanced at Hopper. The Chief looked genuinely concerned. "She'll be okay," Jonathan offered, hoping... "We'll be okay. My mom... she's tough." _She put up with his dad all those years, through all the fights and affairs and lost opportunities..._

"Yeah, she is," Hopper agreed. Jonathan sniffed, trying to keep back the tears. "Hey -" Jonathan glanced up at the Police Chief. Hopper tentatively extended his arm toward him and rested a large hand on Jonathan's shoulder. "She is," he said firmly, offering Jonathan a small, reassuring smile.

Jonathan felt his lips tug up just slightly and he nodded.

"Hey!" a voice from down the hall made them both look up.

Joyce stormed out, the state coroner on her heels. "Ma'am! - Ma'am, I need you to sign!"

She spun around, her eyes flashing fiercely. "I don't-I don't know what you think that _thing_ is in there," she spit out venomously, "but that is _not_ my son!"

"Joyce, wait a second," Hooper began, standing to his feet.

"No!" Joyce cried, exiting the building.

"Mom!" Jonathan called. He grabbed his jacket and pushed passed the man, who was still calling after his mother. She had already disappeared. Jonathan fumbled with his keys as he ran to his car. He circled the building, trying to figure out which direction she had gone.

Jonathan finally caught up with Joyce a few blocks away. He pulled the car up beside her, leaning across the passenger seat to yell out of the window.

"Mom, will you get in?"

"No, I- I need to think. Just go on home," she said, waving him away.

"Mom, will you just get in, please?" Joyce ignored him, marching across the street, her face set, her decision final. "Mom." Jonathan parked the car illegally and threw open his door.

"Mom!" he ran across the street, following her, not even bothering to check for traffic. "Mom, stop," he said, reaching for her elbow.

She jerked her arm out of his grasp. "Just go home, Jonathan."

" _No_ ," Jonathan said firmly. "This is _not_ an okay time for you to shut down." _Please Mom, I can't do this by myself, don't make me go through this alone..._

Joyce's face screwed up in confusion. "Shut down? What -" she began before Jonathan cut her off.

"We have to deal with this, Mom. We have to deal with the funeral!" He was yelling at his mother in public. People were beginning to stop and stare. He could feel their eyes on them. His face burned, but he kept his eyes focused on his mother.

"The funeral?  For-for who?" she stammered, her eyes full of fire again. "For that _thing_ back there?" She shook her head.

Jonathan couldn't believe what he was hearing. They had seen Will's body. The state coroner had done the autopsy. _This was crazy. His mother was crazy_. "Okay, let me get this straight," he said, throwing his hands up in frustration. "Will - that's not his body, because he's in the lights, right? And there's a monster in the wall?" he threw out with derision. He scoffed as she nodded. "Do you even hear yourself?!"

"I know it sounds crazy," Joyce threw back at him, her voice raised. " _I_ sound crazy!"

"Yeah." At least they agreed on that much. 

"You think I don't know that?" Joyce asked, incredulous. " _It is crazy_! But I heard him, Jonathan." The belief in her eyes crushed him. She actually believed that the body back at the morgue wasn't Will's. "He talked to me! Will is-is calling to me! And he's out there, and he's _alone_ , and he's _scared_ , and I-I don't care if anyone believes me!" she stammered, adamant. Tears filled Jonathan's eyes, spilling over. He scowled at her, the anger inside of him bubbling to the surface. "I am not gonna stop looking for him until I find him and bring him home. I am going to bring him home!" Joyce declared, turning her back and walking away from her oldest son.

"Yeah?" Jonathan yelled after her, "Well, while you're talking to the lights, the rest of us are having a funeral for Will! I'm not letting him sit in that freezer another day!" His voice cracked and a sob ached in his chest. A small group of bystanders stared at him. He wanted to scream at them too, but gulped back the angry retort on his lips. "All right," he muttered, turning away, "show's over."

He ran his fingers through his hair has he stomped back to his car, slamming the door behind him as he twisted the key in the ignition. He slammed his foot onto the gas petal and turned the car back toward the morgue. He would have to deal with the arrangements for Will on his own.

++

Jonathan was staring down into a casket that was much, much too small.

"It's made of soft wood with a crepe interior," the funeral director was explaining. Jonathan glanced up at him, finally starting to feel numb. The funeral director cleared his throat softly. "Uh, now, I don't know what your budget is, but over here, we have copper and bronze options."

The funeral director began to lead him to the other side of the room. Jonathan sighed deeply. How was this really happening? How was he shopping for a casket for his twelve year old brother by himself? Jonathan shouldn't have to do this alone. He was only 17 for Christ's sake... He shouldn't have to do this _period_. But here he was, at the funeral home, looking at caskets for his little brother.

Movement made him glance toward the lobby.

Nancy Wheeler stood in the doorway, hands nervously clutching her bag.

He stared at her for a moment, his throat going dry. Jonathan glanced back to the funeral director. "Can you just give me a second?" he asked.

"Of course," the older man nodded, and stepped away, back toward his office.

Jonathan slowly approached Nancy, hands shoved into his pockets.

"Hey." His brow furrowed slightly. Why on earth would Nancy Wheeler be here?

"Hey," she returned. "Your mom, um, she said you'd be here...  I just... Can we talk for a second?" Nancy asked, her eyes wide and pleading.

Once they were out in the hall, she pulled a picture from her bag and passed it to him. It had been ripped and hurriedly taped back together. The photo was one he had taken two nights ago... The one of Barb sitting on the diving board of Steve Harrington's pool. The last one he had taken, before his film ran out.

Nancy tapped the edge of the picture, behind where Barb was sitting. "Here, what is that? Do you know what it could be?"

Jonathan squinted down at the paper, trying to make sense of the image. He slowly shook his head. "It looks like it could be some kind of perspective distortion, but I wasn't using the wide angle..." he glanced at Nancy, swallowing the lump in his throat. Photography techniques weren't important right now. "I don't know," he admitted softly. "It's weird."

"And you're sure you didn't see anyone else out there?" Nancy pressed, her brow pinched together in worry.

"No," Jonathan shook his head. "And she was there one second and then, um, gone." That had been really strange. But he hadn't thought much about it at the time. "I figured she bolted." 

Nancy sighed, her shoulder slumping. "The cops think that she ran away. But they don't know Barb. And I went back to Steve's and I thought I saw... something.  Some ... weird man or - I don't know what it was..." _Weird... man? Could..._ Jonathan stared at the ground. _Could it be possible... Could there be any possibility that his mom had actually seen something?_ _That she wasn't, in fact, crazy?_ Nancy glanced at Jonathan, suddenly looking embarrassed. "I'm sorry," she said, collecting her bag. "I-I shouldn't have come here, today." She rose, as if to make a hasty exit. "I'm- I'm so sorry," she mumbled. 

"What'd he look like?"

Nancy Wheeler stopped in her tracks and slowly turned back toward Jonathan. She studied his face for a moment. "What?"

"This man you saw in the woods. What'd he look like?"

Nancy frowned, contemplating. "I don't know... It was almost like he- he didn't have-"

Jonathan's mouth was cotton. "Didn't have a face?" he ventured.

The frightened look in Nancy's eyes confirmed his fear. "How did you know that?" she whispered.

Jonathan ran his fingers through his hair before cradling his face in his hands. What the going on? What the _hell_ was going on? "Come on," he said, getting to his feet suddenly. "We've gotta go."

++

He drove them to Hawkins High School, which seemed completely deserted after school hours. He found the developed negative in his bag before leading Nancy into the dark room. It took a few minutes for her eyes to adjust, but Jonathan already knew his way around the lab, so he set to work, setting up the enlarger and selecting a piece of glossy photo paper from the stock pile. She inched toward him, standing much closer to him that he would usually prefer someone to be. But Nancy Wheeler wasn't just anyone. Jonathan found her presence comforting, especially in light of the current circumstances.

"What's that?" Nancy asked, looking over his shoulder.

"It's called an enlarger," Jonathan said absently. He slipped the negative film strip into the carrier and inserted it into the machine. He wasn't used to talking in the dark room. He flipped the outlet switch.

"And you're -?" Nancy's question hung in the air. Her eyes had finally adjusted to the low light and she was leaning on the table beside the enlarger, watching him work.

"Brightening," he muttered. "Enlarging." He looked through the eyepiece to make sure he was capturing the correct area.

"Hmm," Nancy hummed. "Did your mom say anything else?" Jonathan sighed, adjusting the enlarging lens. "Like, um, where it might have gone to, or -"

"No, just that it came out of the wall..." The timer chimed softly, indicating that Jonathan had captured the image. He removed the paper from the baseboard and walked over to the developing tray.

Nancy followed him as he dropped the paper into the chemical wash, pushing the page down with his fingers tips.

"How long does this take?" Nancy asked.

"Not long." He rocked the tray, making sure the image was completely submerged in the liquid.  

The silence between them lasted only a few seconds before Nancy spoke again. "Have you been doing this a while?"

"What?" Jonathan glanced over at her.

"Photography?"

He nodded. "Yeah...  I guess I'd rather observe people than, you know ..."

"Talk to them," Nancy finished for him with a knowing look. 

Jonathan lowered his eyes to the developing tray. "I know. It's weird."

"No!" Nancy offered, but Jonathan knew his social disposition and didn't mind owning up to it.

"No, it is," he acknowledged. "It's just," he fought to find the right words, to justify his introspection. "Sometimes... people don't really say what they're really thinking. But you capture the right moment... it says more."

Nancy nodded, considering his words. "What was I saying?" she asked, her tone slightly teasing.

"What?"

"When you took my picture," she clarified, staring into his eyes.

He looked away, guilt washing over him. "I shouldn't have taken that," he admitted quietly, pressing the palm of his hand to his mouth. "I'm, uh, I'm sorry," he said earnestly. Could she even understand? He glanced at her again. They were standing so close... "It's just-"

Her gazed dropped from his and her eyes widened. "That's it - That's what I saw," she gasped, leaning into him.

Jonathan looked down into the developing tray. The outline of a figure appeared, its arms long and slender, its torso twisted and gaunt. Tall, towering. Faceless. Jonathan's blood ran cold. Oh god. That means... 

"My mom... I thought she was crazy... cause she said that's not Will's body. That he's alive..." _He's alive. Will is alive. Oh my god, Will is alive..._

Nancy's face lit up with hope. "And if he's alive..."

"Then Barbara," Jonathan agreed.

His mother hadn't been lying then. His brother was _alive_. Will _had_ been communicating to her through the lights. And this… thing, this monster was also out there, stalking, hunting... His brother was alive, but he was in danger. Jonathan had to figure out a way to save him.


	5. Pressure Drop

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See chapter 1 for disclaimer.

"Hey, kid."

Jonathan stopped short, his keys clutched in his hand. He had seen his father's car parked in front of the house, but he still wasn't fully prepared to see him, back in their house like he belonged there. Lonnie sat on the couch beside Joyce, a half empty bottle of vodka between them. "What's going on?" he asked his mother.

Joyce groggily lifted herself into a sitting position, the blanket wrapped around her shoulders falling. "Your dad's, uh, gonna stay here tonight. On the couch," she added hurriedly.

"Yeah, I'm here as long as you need me, okay?" Jonathan heard Lonnie whisper to his mother. _Ugh_. "How are you holding up?” He heard his father ask him. Jonathan ignored Lonnie, instead moving toward the blue tarp nailed to the wall. He pulled it aside, revealing a large hole. Pink insulation hung limply against the destroyed drywall. The cold November air seeped into the house, making it colder than usual.

"What happened?" He asked, his mind running wild. _Had that thing come through the wall again?_ He turned, looking to his mother.

"Don't worry about that," Lonnie said. But Jonathan was speaking to his mom, not Lonnie. 

"Mom... that thing you saw before, did it come back?" Joyce's eyes widened as she met Jonathan's gaze, her mouth slightly agape. _You believe me?_ her eyes seemed to ask, shining with tears. He wished that Lonnie wasn't here, that he could tell his mom that he was wrong, she was right, he should have believe her before...

"Jonathan, that's enough," his father said sharply. 

Jonathan sighed, finally turning to Lonnie.  "Can we talk? Alone?"

Lonnie grunted in response. Jonathan nodded and marched down the hall to his bedroom.

As soon as the door was shut, he rounded on Lonnie. "You need to leave," he emphasized, jaw clenched. The sooner Lonnie left, the better. 

"Look, I know you're upset. We all are. But you need to listen to me. Your mother is sick. Really sick."

"Yeah," Jonathan retorted, "Well, you being here, you're just making things worse, like always."

Lonnie honestly looked affronted. "Worse?" he repeated.

"Yeah!" Jonathan challenged. 

Lonnie stepped into Jonathan, taking advantage of his height so that he forced his son to look up at him. "She took down that wall with an axe. She said that Will was _inside_ and that he's talking to her."

Jonathan refused to back down. "Yeah. Maybe he was." He hated that there were angry tears in his eyes.

"This isn't some kind of joke." _Did he sound like he was joking?!_ "Your mom was half frozen to death when I got here. Trembling, scared out of her mind. You come in here and you start feeding into her hallucinations or whatever the hell you want to call it, you're gonna push her right over the edge. You hear me?" Jonathan pursed his lips, not able to provide a response. _Lonnie hadn't been here, he didn't know. He wouldn't understand - how could he? Jonathan himself had only just started to understand what was going on._ "Look, I'm on your side," Lonnie said with a sigh. "I'm here to help. I'm gonna make things better around here for all of us."

Jonathan scoffed. _Yeah, right. Us? Now he wanted to be part of this family? The only 'us' around this house was him, his mother and Will._  "Thank God you're here," he said mockingly, stepping away from his father.

He watched Lonnie's jaw flex as he struggled to control his temper. Jonathan wasn't a little kid anymore; he wouldn't take a beating without fighting back now and Lonnie must realize that. "Do me a favor," he said through gritted teeth. "At the funeral tomorrow, just behave. If not for me, for your mother." He moved to leave the bedroom but stopped just short, staring at The Evil Dead poster on Jonathan's wall. "Take that down. It's inappropriate."

++

The cold water stung Jonathan's face. He gasped and shivered for a moment as goosebumps covered his skin. Eventually, he was able to tolerate the icy water temperatures enough to run soapy hands through his hair and scrubs his face and the rest of his body before rinsing off and stepping out of the freezing shower.

He rubbed the towel over his hair before wrapping it around his slender frame and slipping down the hall into his bedroom. He had to get ready for Will's funeral. Except, he knew now that whoever they were burying - that wasn't Will.

After properly toweling dry, he retrieved a clean pair of underwear from his dresser. He searched through his closet for the dress slacks his mom had gotten him in the spring for his aunt's funeral. Thankfully, they still fit, although the hem on the leg was a little short now. He put on a clean, white dress shirt, buttoning it all the way up to the collar. But the tie gave him problems. He couldn't remember how to properly tie the damn thing for the life of him and there was no way in hell he was going to ask Lonnie for assistance. Finally, fed up, he discarded the tie, tossing it into a corner of his bedroom. He turned down his collar and regarded himself in the small mirror hanging above his dresser. His hair was neatly combed and parted to the side. He looked tired and there were bags under his eyes, but he supposed that's how he normally looked. Shrugging, he sighed and headed to the kitchen to find something to eat.

As he was toasting some bread, he noticed a Department of Energy brochure on top of some old magazines, stacked next to the fireplace. The brochure showed a small map of Hawkins, specifically the area immediately surrounding the then-proposed DoE National Laboratory. Jonathan studied it for a moment before coming to a realization. Using a red marker, he drew three red x's on the map. His toast popped up and he carefully folded the brochure, tucking it into his pocket for later.  

++

It was strange, driving to Will's funeral, knowing that they weren't actually burying his brother. His father attempted small talk on the drive over to the cemetery, but both Jonathan and Joyce were silent, lost in their own thoughts.

Pastor Charles of the First Baptist Church of Hawkins that the Byers attended on Easter and Christmas showed them to the wooden folding chairs that had been set out for them. The casket had already been delivered to the burial site, a wreath of flowers adorning the top of the highly polished wood. Jonathan noticed how his mother kept glaring at the casket.

Family friends and a few various members of the community arrived to pay their respects. Dustin Henderson and his family were among the first to arrive. Ms. Henderson offered her condolences to the Byers and then pinched Dustin, who had been scanning the road, presumably for Mike Wheeler and Lucas Sinclair. He half-heartedly mumbled his sorrow for their loss, his s's lisping. The Sinclairs arrives shortly after the Wheelers. At half past the hour, Pastor Charles began his eulogy.

"Fear not, for I am with you.

Be not dismayed,

for I am your God.

I will strengthen you.

Yes, I will help you.

I will uphold you with my righteous right hand."

"It's times like these that our faith is challenged. How, if He is truly benevolent, could God take from us someone so young, so innocent? It would be easy to turn away from God but we must remember that nothing, not even tragedy, can separate us from His love. We are here today to find comfort in the truth of scripture - and to surround Will and his family with the charity and community of God's church."

Jonathan was only half listening.  _Where was Will? And most importantly, how did they get to him?_

When the Lord's Prayer had been recited, Will's casket was lowered into the ground. Mourner passed by to drop long steamed roses into the grave and give their condolences to the Byers family. Lonnie shook everyone's hand and thanked them for coming. Joyce stood with her arms across her chest, frowning down into the grave. Jonathan saw the Wheeler's approaching and looked for Nancy, finding her trailing behind her father. Her eyes flitted to his for a moment before dropping to the ground. She walked with her hands tucked deep in her pockets until she stopped beside him, bumping him gently with her elbow.

"Hey."

"Hey," he said, his voice low. "Come on, I have to show you something."

They walked a short distance away from the crowd, settling on the ground beside a rusted metal fence marking off an old family burial plot.

In the distance, church bells tolled, calling the mourner back to the church for a solemn reception.

Jonathan pulled the old brochure from his pocket and smoothed it out. Nancy settled onto the ground beside him, leaning into him slightly as she studied the paper. "This is where we know for sure it's been, right?"

She pointed to one of the red x's. "So, that's -

"Steve's house," he explained. "And that's the woods where they found Will's bike and that's my house."

Nancy nodded, frowning as she examined the brochure propped on Jonathan's knee. "It's all so close," she observed.

"Yeah. Exactly. I mean, it's all within a mile or something," Jonathan estimated. "Whatever this thing is, it's-it's not traveling far."

Nancy raised her eyes to Jonathan's face, studying him for a moment. "You want to go out there," she breathed softly in realization.

Jonathan nodded slowly. "We might not find anything," he warned.

" _I_ found something." She paused, her brow wrinkling. "And if we do see it...then what?" she asked, her eyes wide and earnest.

Jonathan sighed deeply. "We kill it," he said, his jaw set in determination. And he knew just where he could find a gun. "Come on," he muttered, getting to his feet. Hesitating for half a second, he extended his hand to Nancy. She slipped her fingers into his and gripped his hand firmly as she pulled herself up, dropping his hand as she dusted dead grass from her black skirt. His fingertips tingled, warmth running up and down his arm from the contact. He tried not to think about it too much.

Jonathan headed over to his father's car and opened the passenger door, sliding inside. He pulled his knife from his pocket and began to work the blade against the lock on the glove box.

"What are you doing?!" Nancy asked, worriedly glancing around.

"Just give me a second," Jonathan mumbled, finally popping the glove box open.

He grabbed his father's gun and flipped open the cylinder. All six chambers were loaded.  He securely clicked the cylinder back in place.

Nancy gasped. "Are you serious?"

"What?" Jonathan asked, pulling to two half-empty boxes of bullets from the compartment. "You want to find this thing and take another photo? Yell at it?" He shut the glove box and slid out of the car, slamming the door a little harder than necessary.

"This is a terrible idea," Nancy panicked, glancing around to see if anyone was watching them.

"Yeah," Jonathan said, fumbling to get the boxes into his jacket pockets. "Well, it's the best we've got." Nancy stared at him in disbelief. He hid the gun behind his back, still clumsily trying to pocket the other box of bullets. "What?" he asked, frowning at her. "You can tell someone, but they're not gonna believe you. You know that."

"Your mom would," Nancy challenged.

Jonathan sighed. She was right; Joyce would believe them, but he didn't have the heart to put his mother through something like this. Not again. "She's been through enough-" he started.

"She deserves to know," Nancy insisted, not letting it go.

Jonathan nodded. "Yeah, and I'll tell her when this thing is dead."

Nancy shook her head, but didn't respond, her eyes still full of doubt.

++

Neither of them felt like attending the reception. They made plans to meet each other later that day, in a clearing between their two houses, just far enough away from the road that they could practice shooting Lonnie's stolen gun without drawing unwanted attention.

Jonathan had collected littered beer cans as he walked to the clearing. Once he got there, he set the cans up on some tree stumps and walked fifty feet away, measuring the distance toe-to-heel. Once he was an adequate distance away, he dropped his bag to the ground. Jonathan double checked the cylinder of the .38, making sure all six chambers were loaded. He pushed up his sleeve to check his watch. Just after 3 pm. Nancy would be here soon.

Jonathan sighed and squared his shoulders, bringing the gun up to eye-level. He tried not to think about the last time he shot a gun. He took a deep breath and put his finger on the trigger. _Remember to breathe_ , he told himself.

He pulled the trigger and the bullet shot out of the barrel with a bang. Dust rose from the ground behind the cans. The recoil wasn't as bad as he remembered it being when he was nine, but the shock definitely echoed in his shoulders. He took another deep breath, trying to force his body to relax. He squeezed the trigger again. This time, he was closer, but still missed. He squinted down the barrel and pulled the trigger again. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. _Click_. He sighed. Not a single hit. This wasn't going as well as he had planned...

"You're supposed to hit the cans, right?" Nancy teased.

Jonathan glanced at her and grinned. "No, actually, you see the spaces in between the cans? I'm aiming for those."

"Ah." Nancy dropped her bag and the baseball bat she was carrying on the ground next to Jonathan's bag. He opened the cylinder, shaking the empty shells into his palm and pocketing them. He glanced over at her. She was wearing a maroon denim jacket, her hair pulled back in a ponytail. Her cheeks were flushed pink from the cold chill in the air.

"You ever shot a gun before?" he asked.

Nancy scoffed. "Have you met my parents?"

Jonathan chuckled softly, nodding. "Yeah, I haven't shot one since I was ten." He said, sliding new rounds into the chambers. "My dad took me hunting on my birthday. He made me kill a rabbit."

"A rabbit?"

"Yeah. I guess," Jonathan shrugged, "he thought it would make me into more of a man or something." He paused and then admitted, "I cried for a week."

"Jesus," Nancy muttered.

"What?" Jonathan said, a little defensive, although he tried desperately to make it sound joking. "I'm a fan of Thumper." Bambi had been his favorite movie as a child. It had crushed him to shoot that rabbit.

"I meant your dad," Nancy clarified, giving him a reassuring smile.

"Yeah," he sighed before clearing his throat. "I guess he and my mother loved each other at some point, but," he pulled the hammer back, cocking the gun, "I wasn't around for that part."

Nancy tentatively held out her hand toward the gun, asking permission. Jonathan looked down at her hand, slender fingers exposed in her white, fingerless gloves.

"Um, yeah," he said, handing over the gun carefully. Nancy stared at the gun, feeling the weight of it in her hand. Jonathan cleared his throat. "Just, uh, point and shoot," he instructed, shoving his hands into his pockets.

Nancy nodded, gazing down the clearing at the line of cans. "I don't think my parents ever loved each other," she said suddenly, looking down at the gun in her hands.

Jonathan raised his eyebrows. "They must've married for some reason."

Nancy shrugged, raising the gun "My mom was young." She looked down the sight, lining up the shot. "My dad was older, but he had a cushy job, money, came from a good family. So," she said, her tone taking a slight turn. Jonathan glanced at her, studying her profile. "They bought a nice house at the end of the cul-de-sac and started their nuclear family."

"Screw that," Jonathan muttered.

"Yeah," Nancy agreed. "Screw that."

Bang.

The beer can on the middle stump jumped and clattered to the ground. 

Jonathan's mouth dropped open. Nancy let out a little gasp of surprise. She looked at him, her eyes wide with excitement, her smile blinding. Jonathan grinned back at her, regarding her with awe and wonder. Wow. That Nancy Wheeler sure was something... 

++

It was settled. Nancy was a much better shot than Jonathan was.

After an hour of shooting cans, they headed out into the woods. They still had one box of bullets, which contained 28 rounds. Nancy's baseball bat sat against Jonathan's shoulder, his bag slung over the other. They crossed the railroad tracks and headed toward the wooded area he had marked on the map.

Nancy walked slightly in front of his, surveying the surrounding woods. "You never said what I was saying."

"What?"

Nancy glanced back at him. "Yesterday. You said I was saying something and that's why you took my picture."

 _Oh_. Jonathan's throat felt a little dry. "Oh, uh I don't know," he looked down at his feet. When he glanced back up, Nancy was looking at him, expectantly. "My guess..." he ventured, "I saw this girl, you know, trying to be someone else. But for that moment, it was like you were alone," he said quietly, remembering how Nancy had stared into the darkness of the trees, looking toward him unknowingly. "Or you thought you were. And, you know, you could just be yourself."

Nancy frowned, her brow creasing. "That is such... _bullshit_."

Jonathan stopped in his tracks. "What?"

She turned back toward him, her cheeks flushed - from the cold or anger, he wasn't sure. "I am _not_ trying to be someone else," she said sharply before a spark of understanding came into her eyes. "Just because I'm dating Steve and you don't like him..."

 _God, seriously?_ Jonathan rolled his eyes. "You know what? Forget it," he said, walking away. "I just thought it was a good picture."

"He's actually a good guy." Nancy yelled after him, jogging to catch up to his longer strides. 

"Okay," Jonathan condescendingly replied. Like he was going to believe that, after what Steve Harrington had done to his camera. _Even though you deserved it for what you did_ , a small voice inside his head said. He shoved it away.

Nancy must have been reading his mind. "Yesterday, with the camera... He's not like that at all. He was just being protective."

Jonathan scoffed. "Yeah, that's one word for it."  _Being an asshole is another_.

"Oh, and I guess what you did was okay?" Nancy shot back, anger flooding her voice.

He sighed in defeat. "No, I-I never said that," he said, his cheeks burning with guilt.

"He had every right to be pissed," Nancy pointed out.

"Okay, all right," Jonathan admitted, turning toward Nancy. "Does that mean I have to like him?" His grip on the baseball bat tightened.

Nancy stopped short. "No," she acknowledged slowly.

"Listen, don't take it so personally, okay? I don't like most people. He's in the vast majority." He turned away again, grinding his teeth in frustration.

"You know," he heard her say behind him, "I was actually starting to think that you were okay."

"Yeah?" he bit out, his temper rising.

"Yeah," she stated. "Yeah, I was thinking, 'Jonathan Byers, maybe he's not the pretentious creep everyone says he is.'"

Jonathan stood a step back, blinking. _Pretentious creep?_ _Is that what she thought about him?_ An ache in his chest bloomed, the wound cutting deep. His jaw flexed, unable to hold back the biting words on his tongue.

"Well, I was just starting to think _you_ were okay."

"Oh?" Nancy said, eyebrow raised as a challenge.

He stepped toward her to answer the challenge. "I was thinking, 'Nancy Wheeler, she's not just another suburban girl who thinks she's rebelling by doing exactly what every other suburban girl does,'" he watched her face slowly fall as he continued, "until that phase passes and they marry some boring one-time jock who now works sales, and they live out a perfectly boring little life at the end of a cul-de-sac.  _Exactly_ like their parents," he finished, knowing that would hurt the most, "who they thought were so depressing, but now, hey, they get it." He scoffed and walked past her, hating her, hating himself, hating these goddamn woods.

They wandered in sullen silence for what seemed like a long time. The sun set and the woods began to take on an eerie feeling in the twilight. They had to retrieve the flashlights from their bags, lights helping to guide them in the falling darkness.

When he realized the absence of crunching leaves behind him, he stopped and turned.

Nancy had paused, head titled slightly to the side.

Jonathan sighed. "What, are you tired?" He meant to ask kindly, but it came out as more of a mock.

"Shut up," she snapped, looking to the side.

"What?"

"I heard something," she whispered.

Jonathan's mouth turned to cotton. _Oh God. This was it._ He listened intently and heard it too. A soft noise, coming not too far away. Whimpering?

Nancy began to follow the noise. He wasn't about to let her investigate alone, so he trailed after her.

They quickly discovered the source of the noise. Jonathan's stomach twisted in a sickening manner as Nancy knelt beside the dying deer.

"Oh, God," Nancy whispered, unsure what to do.

The deer gasped and whimpered, clearly in pain. Blood was smeared across its neck and legs.

Jonathan swallowed a sigh and the bile rising in his throat. This was much worse than the rabbit…

"It's been hit by a car," she said, a tentative hand gently stroking its shoulder. "We can't just leave it..." Tears shown in her eyes as she looked at him and then down at the gun.

"I'll do it," he offered, extending his hand toward the gun.

A tear ran down Nancy's cheek. "I thought you said -"

"I'm not nine anymore," he reassured her firmly. Nancy nodded and passed him the gun. It was heavy in his hand, the metal cold upon his palm. He swallowed his nerves and took a deep breath. _The deer was suffering. It was a kindness to kill it._ They stood together, Nancy crying softly at his side.

Jonathan sighed heavily and cocked the gun, aiming the barrel at the wounded deer's head. Nancy gave a little sob and looked away, not able to watch. Jonathan wished there was another way. _You're not nine anymore, this isn't like before. You can do this, you can do this, you have to do this..._

Jonathan extended his arm, turning his head slightly, wishing he didn't have to look at all. He bit his lip, attempting to hold back the tears threatening to betray him.

The deer gave a small grunt of pain and suddenly disappeared into the undergrowth.

Nancy and Jonathan gasped in fright, jumping back. His heart hammered in his chest as he collided with the tree behind him. What the _hell_ had just happened?

"What was that?" Nancy whispered, eyes wide with terror.

Jonathan shook his head, panting.

Nancy tentatively stepped forward, her flashlight trained on the ground. There was a clear trail of blood on the ground. The disturbed forest floor showed the tracks of a body being dragged away.

Nancy pursued the trail of blood, shining brightly against the light of her flashlight. Jonathan followed Nancy, flashlight and gun both raised as he peered through the darkness.

The trail of blood ended abruptly. Nancy stopped, confused. "Where'd it go?" she whispered, turning in hurried circles.

Jonathan shook his head, fear settling cold in the pit of his stomach. "I don't know," he whispered back, slowly raising his light up into the branches overhead. There was nothing above them but dark branches against the night sky. He lowered his light to the ground, glancing back at Nancy. "Do you see any more blood?"

"No..."

They circled together back to back. Jonathan stepped forward, peering into a thicket. He thought she was still behind him, but when he turned around, she was gone. And then he heard it, a distant scream.

"Nancy?" He ran back to where they had lost the trail of blood. She was nowhere to be seen. "Nancy?" Something on the ground caught his eye. The baseball bat. Her bag lay discarded beside a tree. _Oh god. Oh no. Nancy._ He grabbed her bag, turning slowly in a circle as he scanned the area for her, trying to see through the darkness. _Come on, Nancy, answer me…_

"Nancy? Nancy, where are you?" he called, his blood running cold.

"Nancy?"

"Nancy!"

But all that answered was silence.


	6. Hate and War

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See chapter 1 for disclaimer.
> 
> I'd like to dedicate this chapter to Ihni, who has been so supportive and encouraging since the very beginning :)

"Nancy!"

"NANCY!" Jonathan screamed, pleaded, begged. _Where are you? Where are you?!_ "Come on, come on," he muttered, tears blurring his vision. "Nancy! Where are you?"

A faint cry made him stop. 'Jonathan!'

_Nancy?_

Jonathan whirled around, light sweeping the forest.

'Jonathan!'

"Nancy?"

'Jonathan! Jonathan, I'm right here!'

He didn't understand. He could hear her like she was standing right next to him and yet... he turned in a circle, completely alone in the middle of the woods.

"Nancy!" He yelled, taking several steps forward, not knowing where to go. "Nancy!"

'Jonathan, where are you? Jonathan!'

"I'm right-I'm right here!" He choked out. "Nancy!"

'Jonathan!' Her voice was so faint, he could barely make it out.

"I'm right here!" he cried, "Nancy!  Just follow my voice!"

'Jonathan!'

_Where are you? Where are you?!_

Jonathan's heart pounded in his chest. "Follow my voice, Nancy, I'm right here!" he yelled again. "Nancy!"

He paused for a second, the blood pumping loudly in his ears making it hard to hear. "Nancy?"

He no longer heard the distant echo, no longer heard her calling his name. _No, no. Oh god, no, please..._

A shrieking growl made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. "Nancy!" he exclaimed, running toward to sound. He almost tripped over the baseball bat still laying on the ground. He looked around, not seeing anything. A faint gurgled noise sounded to his right. He glanced at the tree next to the bat and finally saw the strange webbing inside a hole at the base of the trunk.

He dropped his bag and shined his light on the tree trunk. A strange red substance softly glowed behind the webbing, moving, as if it was breathing, as if it was alive. Jonathan shook, his body's fight-or-flight instinct telling him to get the _hell_ out of there. He fought for a breath, steeling himself as he took a step forward.

"Nancy?" he whispered, kneeling down onto dead leaves. A sickening squelching sound emanated from the hole as it seemed to shrink away from the light. "Nancy," he breathed. _She's in there, how is she in the tree? What the hell is this stuff?_

"Nancy! Follow my voice!" he urged.

A distant growl answered.

His lip quivered. _What should he do? What could he do?_

He leaned forward, less than a foot from the strange substance. His throat felt like a desert. He didn't think he's ever been this scared in his entire life.

"Nancy?"

A hand suddenly burst through the strange red webbing inside the tree. Jonathan yelped in surprise and fell backwards, hard onto his back.

"Jonathan!" he heard Nancy sob. Her voice was clear, not the echo it had been before. She reached for him, pleading.

"Nancy!" Jonathan gasped, scrambling forward. He grasped Nancy's hand and she immediately dug her nails into the flesh of his wrist. 

He could hear her crying, struggling. He pulled with all his might, grabbing her arm as it slowly appeared. He braced his feet against the trunk of the tree and pulled, grunting with effort. There was no way in hell he was letting go of her.

Nancy's head appeared and she gasped, crying out as she continued to strain against the hold of the webbing.

Jonathan grabbed her shoulders and pulled, throwing his entire weight into it.

She fell onto his chest, shaking violently as she lay atop him. She sobbed, clutching at his shoulders, his arms, trembling from head to toe. Jonathan wrapped his arms around her, holding her more firmly against him. She was covered in some kind of strange slim, webbing caught in her hair.

He sat up, keeping her firmly pressed against his chest. _She's real, she's here, she's alive._  He fought to catch his own breath as he held her. Her fingers dug into his back despite the layers of fabric, clinging desperately to him. When he looked at the tree again, he was horrified to see that the bark was slowly creeping over the opening, closing up the hole.

_If ... if he hadn't noticed the opening, if he hadn't gotten there in time... Nancy could have been trapped on the other side... Just like Will. Just like Barb. She would have been gone._

"I got you," he whispered, his arms securely around her. "I got you."

++

They held each other for a long time. Nancy finally released her grip on his jacket, her hands sliding forward to rest on his shoulders. Her eyes were still swimming with tears, but she had mostly stopped shaking.

"Will you take me home?" she asked, her tear-filled eyes pleading.

As if Jonathan would deny that to her.

"Of course," he said gently.

Nancy nodded and then seemed to realize that she was sitting on him, legs straddling his lap. She untangled herself from him and stood shakily. Jonathan quickly got to his feet and steadied her. She clung to his arm as he gathered their bags. He passed her the flashlight so that he could grab the baseball bat.

The light shook in Nancy's hand, but she kept it pointed forward and helped light their way as they hurried away from that dreadful place.

It look them about twenty minutes of walking in the dark before they came to the back of Nancy's neighborhood. The Wheeler's house backed up to the woods that ran along the power lines. Nancy stayed tucked against Jonathan's side, trembling slightly at each sound. She led him to the side of the house around the garage. They stopped just short of the living room windows.

Nancy pointed up to a window on the second floor. "That's my bedroom," she said quietly.

Jonathan glanced at her, confused. 

"I can't use the front door," she explained. "My mother doesn't know I left the house." She pointed to the side of the house where a single-story add-on met the main house. "We can climb up this way."

Jonathan nodded, noticing a meter box against the brick siding. It looked like he could use that to climb onto the roof easily enough. He glanced at Nancy. "Can you make it up?"

She looked up at him, trembling against his side. "I don't know," she said truthfully.

"That's alright," Jonathan assured her, studying the roof. "I could boost you up, or I could climb to the roof and pull you up?"

She considered for a second. "Boost me?"

Jonathan nodded. He set their bags down and led her over to where the two sections of the house met. She shivered when he stepped away, hugging her arms around her middle. He laced his fingers together and bent his knees slightly. "Put your foot in my hands and I'll lift you up," he explained. "You can use my shoulder to push yourself up the rest of the way."

Nancy stepped forward and placed her hands hesitantly on his shoulders. She glanced at him, her brow pinched together in worry. "It's ok," he said softly. "You can do this."

She slid her foot into his hands and Jonathan slowly straightened, lifting her up toward the roof. She was much lighter than he had realized. Nancy tentative reached out and grabbed the rain gutter with trembling fingers. She brought her other leg up and placed her foot against Jonathan's shoulder. Stepping up while digging her elbows into the shingles, Nancy was able to pulling herself onto the roof.

Once she was securely on the roof, Jonathan slung both bags over his shoulder and stepped onto the meter box. With a small jump, he hauled himself up next to her. Nancy walked to her window and pushed up on the unlocked pane of glass. The window opened smoothly. Jonathan helped her inside and then climbed in behind her.

He had never been in Nancy Wheeler's bedroom before. The walls were lined with yellow and cream striped wallpaper. The room was light and airy and _warm_. Jonathan shrugged out of his denim jacket, folding it over his arm.

Nancy wandered toward her dresser and then swayed dangerously. Jonathan jumped forward to catch her arm and then guided her to sit on the edge of her bed.

Her hand fell on his wrist, keeping him by her side. They sat in silence for a while until Jonathan realized Nancy had begun to shake again. Unsure what to do, Jonathan pulled his blue and yellow striped sweater over his head and wrapped it around Nancy's thin shoulders. He gently rubbed her back, hoping that would help.

She sniffled and then sighed, wiping a tear from her cheek. Nancy stared at her hand, which was streaked with dirt and grime and whatever the hell had been inside that tree. She began to shiver again.

"I-I think I want to shower..."

"Okay," Jonathan replied. She gingerly removed his sweater from her shoulders and laid it on the bed. Nancy rose and crossed to her dresser, pulling a pair of blue pajamas from the bottom drawer. She paused at the door, hand hovering just above the handle.

She cast a nervous glance at him that made Jonathan's heart ache. He tried to offer her a smile, but it felt stiff on his lips. "It's okay," he said softly. “I’ll be right here if you need me…”

Nancy closed her eyes and nodded. Taking a breath, she opened the door and disappeared down the hall.

Jonathan sighed, his head dropping into his hands. What were they going to do about this _thing_? This monster? It was insanely fast and appeared out of nowhere. How were they going to fight something like that?

After a few minutes, Jonathan began to look around Nancy's room. A poster of Tom Cruise hung on one wall while a corkboard full of pictures of Nancy and Barb lined the opposite side. Nancy looked really happy in those photos... He gathered up his sweater and his denim jacket where it had fallen to the floor, and placed it on what he took to be Nancy's hamper. He stepped out of his boots and laid them beside the hamper, his father’s gun tucked behind them.

The accordion closet door was partially opened and a bit of crochet cause Jonathan's eye. A sudden idea came to his mind. He pushed open one of the doors and retrieved a crocheted pillow and a very flowery blue and pink sleeping bag. He glanced at the foot of Nancy's bed. The space next to the closet was wide enough for him to lay down comfortably. He unrolled the sleeping bag to the full length before shaking it out. He might be a bit tall for it, but he didn't mind; he could make it work.

There was a click and the door slowly pushed open. Nancy entered and quietly pressed the door closed, locking the door behind her. Her dark hair was wet, her skin clean. She stepped away from the door, beginning to fold her arms across her chest when she paused, taking in the bedding on the floor.

Jonathan sat back on his heels, suddenly nervous.

"Better?" he asked.

"Yeah," she whispered, rubbing her neck before wrapping her arms around herself. 

Jonathan glanced down at the sleeping bed and then back to Nancy, slowly getting to his feet. "Is this okay? Uh, I found it in the closet." Nancy stared at him for a moment, her expression hard for him to read. "I can go home," he said quickly, rubbing his hands nervously on his jeans, "I just figured-"

"Yeah, no," Nancy jumped in quickly. "I-I don't wanna be alone."

He sighed in relief and nodded his understanding. 

She glanced at him, her brow pinched together in concern. "Do you?" she asked quietly. 

Jonathan shook his head. "No," he emphasized a little too quickly. He cleared his throat. "Uh... no."

Nancy nodded and gave him a weak smile. She walked over to her bed and lifted the covers, tucking herself in.

Jonathan knelt on the floor and slid into the sleeping bag, scooting as far in as he could.

He heard Nancy shift in the bed above him. He grabbed his gun from behind the hamper and slipped it under the fabric, gripping it tightly. If... if that thing came back, he wanted the gun nearby... just in case. He fought to keep his breathing even, to think of something else...

He heard the bedframe squeak slightly as Nancy shifted again. "Can you just come up here?" she demanded more than asked. 

Jonathan froze, unable to respond for a moment. Finally, his legs began to move as he kicked out of the too-small sleeping bag. "Yeah," he said, clumsily getting to his feet. He brought the gun with him, figuring Nancy wouldn't mind in light of everything that had happened this evening. 

He slid the gun into a crease in the fabric by the pillow and carefully climbed into bed beside Nancy Wheeler. That's not something he ever thought he'd do.

Jonathan laid on his back and stared up at the ceiling, biting his lip "Do you want the lights off, or -"

"On," Nancy said quickly. 

"Yeah," he agreed. He slowly rolled onto his side, looking tentatively at the girl beside him. Nancy had the covers pulled up to her neck, clutching them to her chest. He wanted to reach out, touch her, offer her some kind of comfort... 

"You know, it- it can't get us in here," he stammered out, his voice faltering in the lie. 

Nancy frowned. "We don't know that," she whispered sorrowfully.

++

He didn't remember falling asleep. He had had the most bazar nightmare, lost in a strange place, searching for Will, for Barb, for Nancy, the stars overhead looking oddly like Christmas lights... His pillow was unusually soft against his cheek. He rubbed his face against the back of his hand, trying to chase away the sleep that was still clouding his mind. He sighed into the fabric and lifted his head slightly, blinking into the soft morning light. He noticed the blue floral mattress first, which reminded him that he was not in his room. 

He tilted his head and saw Nancy Wheeler sitting on the bed with a pile of books around her. 

"Hey," he greeted groggily, his mouth still thick from sleep. He sat up slowly as to not disturb the books laid out at the end of the bed.

"Hey," Nancy returned absently, scribbling something onto a piece of paper.

"Couldn't sleep?" he asked, concern creeping into his voice.

Nancy shook her head. "Every time I close my eyes, I just ... keep seeing that... _thing_." He saw her repress a shiver. He fought the urge to touch her shoulder. "Wherever I was, that place I think that it lives there. It was feeding there. Feeding on that deer." She tapped her pencil against a book, thinking. "That means that if -" Nancy's breath hitched as if she was attempting to hold back tears. "If Will and Barbara..."

"Hey," Jonathan pushed himself closer to her, leaning toward her. "My mom said she talked to Will. If he's alive, there's a chance Barbara is, too."

"That means that she's _trapped..._ in that place," she said hopelessly, finally turning her gaze to meet his. He could see her reliving last night, replaying everything over in her head. They stared at each other for a moment before Nancy spoke again. "We have to find it again."

Jonathan raised his eyebrows in astonishment. "You wanna go back out there?"  _How would we even find it?_ he wondered. The hole in the tree had closed itself up... 

"Maybe we don't have to," Nancy mused, an idea suddenly seizing her. "When I saw it, it was feeding on that deer," she explained. "Meaning it's... it's a predator, right?"

"Right," Jonathan acknowledged, watching Nancy as her mind worked out the problem. 

"And it seems to hunt at night, like a-a lion or a coyote," she commented, setting one of the book down in front of him. He looked down at the colorful illustrations of a lion and his pride. "But it doesn't hunt in packs like them," Nancy was saying, "It's always alone, like... like a bear. And remember at Steve's, when Barb cut herself?" Jonathan nodded, faintly recalling Barb clutching her hand before hurrying inside. "And then, last night, the deer -"

"Hmm," Jonathan agreed, "it was bleeding, too."

"One sec," Nancy rummage over the books before finding the one she was looking for. She pulled the book out of the pile and set it between them, pointing to a large illustration of a shark jumping out of the water, its mouth opened wide, revealing several layers of razor-sharp teeth. She tapped her finger against the picture. "Sharks can detect blood in one part per million. That's one drop of blood in a million, and they can smell it from a quarter mile away."

Jonathan considered for a moment. "So you're saying it can detect blood?"

"It's just a theory," she whispered, her confidence wavering momentarily.

Jonathan swallowed thickly, his jaw flexing. "We could test it," he offered. Nancy nodded in agreement, determination filling her eyes. "But..." he hesitated, "if it works..."

"At least we'll know it's coming," Nancy said, the strength in her voice returning.

Both Nancy and Jonathan jumped as the door knob rattled. Jonathan's heart leapt in his chest.

"Honey, are you up?" Karen Wheeler called through the closed door. 

Nancy sighed and closed her eyes. "Yeah, I'm-I'm getting dressed," she called back, the lie rolling easily off her lips. 

"I made some blueberry pancakes," Karen said in an enticing manner. 

"I'll be down in a second," Nancy replied.

They both held their breath for a moment as they listened for Karen Wheeler's retreating footsteps. Nancy let out a sigh before looking down. Jonathan followed her gaze to where their hands were clasped together. Nancy's hand twitched and Jonathan quickly withdrew his hand.

Nancy's eyes were squeezed shut, her hand curled into a ball. 

Jonathan bit his lip, before he ventured jokingly, "Your mom doesn't knock?"

Nancy breathed out a small laugh and Jonathan's shoulder relaxed. He chuckled softly with her, glad that he of all people was able to make her smile.

++

They had formulated a plan - draw out the monster and kill it. 

Drawing out the monster meant they would have to have a source of blood to lure it. Nancy figured a cut to the palm was a small price to pay if it worked. Jonathan agreed. 

And then there was the issue of actually killing the monster. They had a gun, but Jonathan wasn't sure that a few bullets would stop the creature. They should have a backup plan in case the gun failed - several, in fact, just to be safe. 

After Nancy had gotten dressed with a blushing Jonathan staring pointed out the window with his back turned to give her some privacy, they climbed out her window and made their way to Jonathan's house to pick up his car.

Jonathan drove them to the Army Surplus store, which also served as Hawkins' hunting and sporting goods store. A large green banner with white lettering advertised a 30% autumn sale. Nancy and Jonathan split up, covering more ground as they walked up and down the aisles, grabbing items that looked dangerous.

In the aisle next to the ammo boxes and practice targets shaped like turkeys, Jonathan found a small gasoline drum. He picked it up, considering. Would the thing burn if they lit it on fire? Guess there was only one way to find out...

Metal clattering together made him glance over into the next aisle at Nancy. She was very focused, studying each item as if she was preparing for an exam. _Never one to do something half-hearted_ , he thought. He moved into her aisle, grabbing a can of lighter fluid as he walked.

He watched her test the weight of a large hammer in her hands before slipping it into her basket. She stopped at the end of the aisle, head title in consideration. Jonathan approached, peering around her shoulder. Several bear traps sat on a low shelf. They were large, made of thick steel with spiked teeth. Nancy glanced back at Jonathan, silently asking what he thought. He nodded, eyebrows raised. Perfect for catching a monster.

Jonathan was surprised at how heavy the trap was. He passed the gasoline can to Nancy so that he could lift the contraption with both hands. He set it down on the counter with a loud thump. 

Nancy dumped the contents of her shopping basket onto the counter. The gasoline can, a handful of 9 inch nails, the hammer, a can of lighter fluid and a new flashlight to replace the one Nancy had lost on the other side. Jonathan tried to appear as calm and normal as possible. He cleared his throat to prevent his voice from cracking. "And I'll have four boxes of the .38s."

The clerk gave a slight huff of annoyance and retrieved the boxes from a back shelf. He eyed them suspiciously as he placed the boxes of bullets on the counter with the rest of their items. "What you kids doin' with all this?" he asked, eyes drifting between the two of them. 

Jonathan froze, unsure of what to say. He and Nancy glanced at each other. "Um -"

Nancy tilted her head and said casually, "Monster hunting."

"Huh." The clerk nodded, as if it was a totally normal response he heard on a regular basis. He rung them up without further conversation. Jonathan pulled a wad of cash from his pocket. He smoothed out a few ten dollar bills he had picked up from the manager’s office at work on their way to the surplus store. Nancy pulled several neatly folded dollars from her back pocket, having drawn from her stash of birthday money hidden in the bottom of her music box.

The clerk boxed up the majority of their items, handed back their change and then went back to flipping through a magazine behind the counter. Jonathan lifted the box which contained the bear trap while Nancy grabbed the gasoline container.

"Monster hunting?" Jonathan teased, following Nancy to his car. He balanced their box of 'monster hunting supplies' on his knee while he opened the trunk of his car 

Nancy smirked, a peculiar look crossing her face. "You know," she said, "last week I was shopping for a new top I thought Steve might like... It took me and Barb all weekend. It seemed like life or death, you know?" She glanced at Jonathan, an amused look on her face. “And-and now..."

"You're shopping for bear traps with Jonathan Byers," he finished of her. He could see the humor in that. 

"Yeah," she said, a bit of wonder in her voice.

Jonathan placed the box into the trunk and slammed it shut. He squinted into the pale light of a November afternoon and licked his lips nervously. "What's the weirdest part? Me or the bear trap?" he teased.

A smile tugged at Nancy's lips. "You," she teased back fearlessly, titling her head to the side as she gazed at him. "It's definitely you."

Jonathan smiled back at Nancy, his cheek growing warm at the way she was staring at him.

A car horn honking made them both look up. "Hey, Nance!” A jock leaned out of a passing car, hooting with laughter. "Can't wait to see your movie!"

Nancy's face immediately fell. She glanced back at Jonathan, confused.

"What the hell was that?" Jonathan asked, staring after the red sports car.

"I don't know," she muttered. Nancy turned and walked a few feet toward the street.

"What?" Jonathan asked, confused. "What?" Suddenly, she broke into a jog, heading up the hill toward the center of town. "Hey! Where are you going?" Jonathan called before following her.

She was far enough ahead of him that he didn't see it at first. _Where was she going?_ She sprinted across the street. _Damn, she was fast._  "Nancy, wait! Nancy!" 

She stopped short and Jonathan finally was able to catch up to her. He panted, trying to catch his breath.

He glanced up and realized they were standing in front of the local movie theatre. Up on the marquee underneath **'ALL THE RIGHT MOVES'** was sprawled 'STARRING NANCY THE SLUT WHEELER.'

"Jesus," he muttered. 

He heard Nancy let out a trembling breath. She looked around, her expression one of hurt and betrayal. She began to walk away.

"Wait!" he said, hurrying after her again. 

She stopped at the alley behind the movie theatre, pausing for a moment as she watched something. Then Nancy marched into the alley before Jonathan could stop her.

Jonathan had turned the corner just in time to witness Nancy walk straight up to Steve Harrington and slap him across the face.

"What is wrong with you?" she cried, her fists clinched at her side. 

"What's wrong with me?" Steve looked affronted. "What's wrong with you? I was worried about you. I can't believe that I was actually worried about you," he muttered, scoffing.  

"What are you talking about?" Nancy said. 

"I wouldn't lie if I were you," Tommy's girlfriend said to Nancy, "You don't want to be known as the lying slut now, do you?"

Tommy was the first to notice Jonathan walking up the alley toward them. "Speak of the devil..." Behind Tommy were the words 'BYERS IS A PERV' in the same red-colored spray paint that was on the theatre marquee.

They all turned to look at Jonathan. Steve's expression looked more crushed than angry. Realization passed across Nancy's face.

"You came by last night?" Nancy asked, turning back to Steve, her tone incredulous. 

"Ding! Ding! Ding!" Tommy's girlfriend said, smacking her gum as always. "Does she get a prize?"

Nancy ignored her. "Look, I don't know what you _think_ you saw, but it wasn't like that."

Steve's eyes darkened, suddenly empty of emotion. "What, you just let him into your room to … _study_?"

"Or for another pervy photo session?" Tommy H. added, laughing. 

Jonathan frowned at Tommy, his stomach twisting uneasily.  

Nancy sighed, exasperated. "We were just -"

"You were just what?" Steve challenged. "Finish that sentence. Finish the sentence."

Jonathan watched Nancy's shoulders fall as she remained silent.

Steve shook his head. "Go to hell, Nancy."

Jonathan stepped forward, taking Nancy's elbow. "Come on, Nancy, let's just leave." Nancy turned into him as he began to lead them out of the alley. 

Steve followed behind them, pushing Jonathan's shoulder.

"You know what, Byers? I'm actually kind of impressed," he threw out, shoving Jonathan in the back and making him stumble slightly. "I always took you for a _queer_ , but I guess you're just a little screw-up like your father."

Another shove made him stumble again, but Jonathan was able to keep his feet under him. _Just ignore him, it doesn't matter what he says about you, it doesn't matter, it doesn't matter...like hell it did._

"Yeah, that house is full of screw-ups. You know, I guess I shouldn't really be surprised. A bunch of screw-ups in your family."

He stopped, his jaw clinched so tight it ached.

"Jonathan, leave it," Nancy urged, reaching out toward him, her hand on his wrist. 

"I mean, your mom, I'm not even surprised what happened to your brother."

Nancy turned on Steve, her eyes wide in horror. "Steve, shut up!”

"I'm sorry I have to be the one to tell you -" another shove -"but the Byers, their family, it's a disgrace to the entire-"

Jonathan's last bit of self-control disappeared, anger coloring his vision. His hand was already curled into a fist as he swung around, striking Steve in the face.

Steve fell sideways, catching himself on some metal piping. He stayed there for a second, staring at Jonathan as if he had two heads.

Jonathan stood, fists partially raised, unsure, shifting his weight.

All at once, Steve lunged, tackling Jonathan around the waist and throwing him against the hood of a car. Jonathan scrambled to get his hands up, trying to push Steve off of him. Steve grabbed Jonathan by the collar and threw him to the ground, quickly jumping on top of him. 

"Steve! Stop! Steve! Knock it off, you guys!" Nancy pleaded while Tommy yelled, "Kick his ass, man!"

They wrestled, each trying to gain advantage over the other. Jonathan was able to shove Steve off of him and push him to the ground. He didn't expect the knee Steve threw into his ribs. 

Jonathan groan, rolling to the ground as he grabbed at his side. Steve began to stand. Jonathan refused to be kicked while he was down. He scrambled to his feet and smacked Steve in the face before he could stand up.  

Steve stumbled backward as Tommy's girlfriend cried, "Get in there, he's going to hurt himself!" 

Tommy H. jumped forward, shoving Jonathan, cocking back his fist, but Steve pushed him out of the way "Hey. Hey!" Steve yelled at his friend. "Get out of here! Get out of here!"

If nothing else, at least the guy fought fair. Jonathan stepped forward and swung a left hook, but Steve ducked and all his fist met was empty air. Jonathan wasn't able to bring his hands up in time before Steve struck him under his left eye, sending Jonathan staggering backward.

He set his feet and turned, throwing his full weight behind the next punch, catching Steve across his left cheek. Steve seemed dazed for a second and Jonathan took advantage, hitting him square in the nose. The way the bone gave way under his knuckles made him think he might have broken Steve's nose.

Jonathan faintly heard Nancy screaming at him, her words not quite registering.

Steve stumbled and fell to the ground. Jonathan followed, kneeling on the ground as he gripped Steve's jacket. Steve tried to push Jonathan off of him, but Jonathan held him down and began to swing his fist again and again and again.

He thought he heard something - a car? a horn? Did it really matter? He continued to hit Steve, pounding out his anger and frustration at him, at, himself, at his father, at that monster who stole his little brother away, at the unfairness of life...

"You have to stop!" he heard Nancy say now, her hand on his back. "Stop it!"

Tommy reached down, trying to separate Jonathan and Steve. "Hey, he's had enough, man! I said he's had enough!" Jonathan shoved Tommy H. away before turning back to Steve. 

"Stop it!" Nancy cried. 

A hand grabbed Jonathan's shoulder and on instinct, he threw his elbow back, connecting with someone's face. 

"Oh! My nose!"

Strong hands gripped the back of Jonathan's jacket and pulling him off Steve. "Calm him down!” a gruff, familiar voice barked out. 

Tommy H. grabbed Steve, hauling him up from the ground. Jonathan saw them begin to run away as Powell pulled him back and threw him onto the hood of the blue Mustang. Powell twisted Jonathan's arm behind his back, pinning him to the car.  He panted, struggling for breath. 

“Hey! Hey, uh-uh," Callahan called, giving chase to Tommy and Steve. "Come here, little guys! Come here!"

"Get off!" Jonathan said, his cheek pressed against the blue paint. 

"I got this one!" Jonathan suddenly felt cold metal slap against his wrist, clicking shut. _Oh shit._ Jonathan gradually stopped struggling, the rage slowly draining away as rational thought returned. Powell pulled his other wrist down, encircling it with the other cuff. 

He heard Nancy sniffling behind him as Callahan continued to chase Steve and Tommy H. "Get back here! Get back here, you little punks!" he called breathlessly before giving up at the end of the alley.

++

Jonathan had never been handcuffed before, had never been in the back of a police car before. Callahan and Powell put Nancy in the back seat with him as they drove him to the station.

She kept touching his arm, her face twisted up in worry, her cheeks stained with tears.

He wanted to tell her that he was sorry for what he had done, but truthfully, he wasn't. It had felt good to hit Steve, to let go of the anger he had been holding inside. _And that terrified him – that perhaps he was more like his father than he ever wanted to admit._ So he sat in silence next to Nancy, his head bent forward in shame.

As they drove to the station, Callahan turned on the CB radio. "Hey, Chief, you there? Hey, Chief?"

Static crackled through the radio for a moment before Hopper answered. "Yeah, go ahead."

"Yeah," Callahan drew out, touching his nose gingerly, "a fight broke out here and -"

Jonathan could hear Hopper sigh through the channel. "Cal, I don't have time for this."

"It's Jonathan Byers. You haven't seen Joyce, have you?"

Jonathan groaned and pressed his forehead against the backseat. _Well shit._

After a moment of long silence, Hopper replied. "We'll be there soon."

++

His cheek under his left eye throbbed painfully. But he imaged that's what usually happened when you were punched in the face.

"Are you okay?"

He nodded, looking down at his cuffed wrists. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," he said, attempting to offer her a small smile. _That was a mistake._ He winced, trying to ignore the pain. Nancy noticed.

"I'll find you some ice," she said, wandering over to where Florence, the Hawkins Police Station receptionist, sat. He watched her ask a question and then follow the older woman into another part of the building. 

He sat at Powell's desk, waiting for Hopper and his mother to show up. Deputy Powell had been kind enough to recuff him so that his wrists were in front of his body rather than behind his back.

He sighed deeply, hoping his mother wouldn't be too angry. Powell and Callahan had taken his wallet, his car keys and his pocket knife when they arrived at the station and then asked him to provide a statement. They asked Nancy for her side of things as well, writing down each of their versions of what had transpired in the alley behind the movie theatre.

Jonathan's head dropped forward. _How could he have let this happen?_ With all his mother had had to deal with the past couple of days, she could now add her oldest son being arrested to the list. _He was such an asshole..._

He gingerly ran his fingers over his swollen knuckles. At least his hand didn't hurt as much as his face did...

Nancy emerged from the backroom, carrying what looked like a Christmas dish towel in her hands. She sat down on a small metal folding chair next to him, fidgeting with the towel. "Found some ice," she said quietly.

"Thanks." He started to reach for the ice wrapped in the towel, but the cuffs restricted his movements. 

Nancy gave him a small, understanding smile and lifted the dish towel, pressing it gently against his left cheek. He leaned into her hand, the coolness of the ice feeling wonderful.

He heard Nancy sigh.

He glanced up, concerned. Her brow was pinched, as if something was bothering her. "Everything okay?" he asked softly, worried. 

"Yeah," she said, a bit too quickly. She glanced up at him. "Everything's fine."

He stared at her, not quite believing her. She had a right to be mad at him - he had just gotten into a fight with her boyfriend. He bit the inside of his cheek. He had really screwed everything up... how were they going to kill the monster if he was locked up in jail?

Jonathan looked at Nancy, unsure.

_What do we do now?_


	7. Time is Tight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See chapter 1 for disclaimer.
> 
> This chapter turned out to be extra long - I hope you enjoy :)

He was bored out of his mind. They had been stuck at the Police Station for well over an hour now. He and Nancy sat beside each other, mostly in silence, as he brooded about just how stupid he was to get himself into this situation. "Hey -" Jonathan glanced up at his mom's voice. "Jonathan? Jesus, what-what happened?" Joyce demanded as she marched into the Hawkins Police Station, Hopper on her heels.

Behind him, Callahan rose from his desk. "Ma'am -" he began.

"I'm fine," Jonathan muttered, staring at the Christmas dish towel filled with half-melted ice cubes sitting on his knuckles. 

"Why is he wearing handcuffs?" Joyce snapped at Callahan.

"Well, your boy assaulted a police officer. That's why." he drawled back. 

"Take them off," she insisted fiercely. 

"I am afraid I cannot do that," Callahan said, standing his ground. Powell emerged from the records room.

"Take them off!" Joyce yelled.

"You heard her," Hopper ordered. "Take 'em off."

"Chief, I get everyone's emotional here," Powell said calmly, "but there's something you need to see."

Hopper studied Powell for a moment before nodding. The Police Chief followed Callahan and Powell outside.

Joyce leaned across the desk, lightly touching Jonathan's bruised cheek. "Are you okay?" she asked, her brow wrinkled in worry.

Jonathan nodded. "I'm fine," he repeated, the embarrassment of his mother fussing over him causing his cheeks to burn.

Joyce brushed Jonathan's bangs to the side. He frowned and leaned away. "Mom-" he mumbled, begging her to stop.

Nancy watched him, her eyes wide as she looked at Joyce.

The loud thump of something hitting the desk caused the three of them to jump. Jonathan and Nancy stared in horror at their discovered box of monster hunting supplies.

Jonathan's heart sank as his mother began to rummage through the box's contents. Joyce's face crumpled in confusion. "What is this?"

"Why don't you ask your son? We found it in his car," Hopper said, his voice steely. 

"What?" Joyce looked at Jonathan in disbelief.

Jonathan felt his anger flaring again. "Why are you going through my car?" Jonathan contested.

Hopper leaned across the desk, towering over Jonathan. He felt Nancy shrink back beside him. "Is that really the question you should be asking right now?" Jonathan tried to swallow the lump in his throat. _Damn, that man could be intimidating when he wanted to be..._ "I wanna see you in my office."

"You won't believe me," he replied. 

 "Why don't you give me a try?"

Jonathan stared up at Hopper, unsure. _Could... there be a possibility that Hopper might actually believe them?_ He glanced at his mother, who was still staring at the box full of bullets, lighter fluid and a bear trap. She seemed to have faith in the Police Chief so...

He licked his lips and nodded. Hopper grabbed their box and walked away. Jonathan followed Hopper down the hall to his office, Joyce and Nancy trailing behind him. Hopper threw the box and his hat on his desk and closed the door securely behind him. He motioned for them to have a seat while he leaned against the front of his desk, arms crossed. Nancy and Jonathan sat on the edge of the worn sofa. Joyce paced nervously and pulled a packet of cigarettes from her jacket pocket. She tapped one free and then offered the packet to Hopper, who pulled a cigarette free from the packaging. He lit Joyce's cigarette and then his own.

"Alright, start talking," he instructed, exhaling a thin stream of smoke into the air.

Jonathan and Nancy glanced at each other for a second. Unsure of where to start, Jonathan began with the night after Will vanished.

He told them about stopping at the woods to look for clues in Will's disappearance, how he had heard a scream and ended up stumbling upon Steve Harrington's house, where Nancy and her friend Barb happened to be.

It was hard to explain about the photographs and Joyce looked at Jonathan with such disappointment in her eyes, he wished that he could just sink into the floor.

Nancy helped him through the next part, retelling the same story she gave to Callahan and Powell several days before when she reported Barb missing. Nancy told of how she had seen something in the woods next to Steve Harrington's house and realized there was something more to the picture she had taken than just Barb. Joyce nodded, remembering how Nancy had come looking for Jonathan that day.

Jonathan explained how he and Nancy had gone out into the woods the night before, trying to track down the monster. When he got to the part about Nancy crossing over to the other side, Joyce let out a shaky breath of shock and disbelief. He felt Nancy shift beside him and thought he felt her lean into him slightly.

Nancy whispered about how she had been able to hear Jonathan's voice on the other side and it had helped her find her way back. Jonathan admitted that he had spent the night at the Wheeler's, neither one of them wanting to be alone after that.

Nancy went over her theory about the monster, how it acted like a predator, hunting alone at night, and seemed to be drawn to blood. She retrieved the image Jonathan had enlarged and passed it to Joyce.

"This is the creature you saw come out of the wall in your house, right?" Nancy asked Joyce. "That's what I saw in the woods..." she trembled slightly beside Jonathan and he desperately wanted to reach out and comfort her, but was unsure if that was okay in front of Hopper and his mother.

Joyce examined the picture, eyes wide. She nodded, staring at Nancy as she passed the picture to Hopper.

It was hard to read the Police Chief's expression, but his brow wrinkled as he studied the creature. Jonathan chewed on his nails to stop his hand from shaking.

"You say blood draws this thing?" Hopper asked, glancing up.

"We don't know,” Jonathan muttered, glancing at his mother.

“It's just a theory," Nancy admitted quietly.

After a few moments of silence, Joyce rose from her seat.

"Can I see you in the hall for a minute?" Joyce directed at Jonathan, the edge in her voice sharp. He nodded and followed his mother into the hall, feeling Nancy's eyes follow him from the room.

As soon as he shut the door behind him, he was apologizing. "I'm sorry, Mom."

"What, you're sorry?" Joyce snapped, throwing her hands in the air. "You're-you're _sorry_?  That is _not_ good enough, Jonathan."

"I know," he muttered, head downcast, hands shoved into his pockets. 

"That's not even close. That's not even in the ballpark."

"I wanted to tell you, I just -"

"What if this thing took you, too?" Joyce's voice shook, tears filling her eyes. "You risked your life and Nancy's."

Jonathan stammered, despite every attempt to keep his own voice strong. "I thought I could save Will-I still do."

"This is not yours to fix alone. You act like you're all alone out there in the world, but you're not. You're _not_ alone." His mother was heartbroken, pleading. He had really screwed up. 

"I know," he whispered.

Joyce pushed Jonathan in frustration, causing him to take a step back. "God damn it, Jonathan." "I know," he repeated, his vision blurring with tears.

His mother grabbed the collar of his jacket and pulled him close, wrapping her arms around him. Jonathan didn't realize how much he needed the comfort of an embrace from his mother. He shut his eyes, trying to keep the tears from spilling out.

"Damn it," Joyce breathed again, the anger in her voice all but gone. 

Jonathan sniffling, dropping his head to his mother's shoulder.

Yelling in the lobby caused them both to jump, pulling apart.

Hopper flung his office door open, looking out. He closed the door behind him, throwing a glance to Joyce.

"You stay here," he instructed firmly, stepping away to investigate what was going on.

Joyce led Jonathan back into Hopper's office and closed the door. They could still make out a woman yelling, clearly upset. 

A few minutes later, Hopper burst back into the office. "I think we found her," he said, grabbing his hat.

"Who?" Joyce asked, standing quickly.

"Terry Ives' daughter."

Joyce gasped, hand flying to her mouth. Jonathan and Nancy exchanged a confused glance.  _Who_?

Hopper stopped and pointed to Nancy, who froze, wide-eyed. "And she's with your brother."

 

++

 

Hopper drove Jonathan's car, having taken it from the impound lot behind the Police Station. Nancy and Jonathan sat in the back seat, bouncing and sliding as Hopper aggressively navigated the winding roads toward Maple Street.

Hopper turned the car onto Mason Hill Street. Nancy tried to correct him, but Hopper shook his head. "Gotta check and make sure the coast is clear first," he reasoned. Hopper parked the car next to an empty lot on a hill that provided them with a clear view down into the Wheeler's street. There were several black Cadillacs parked outside.

They all exited Jonathan’s car, surveying the street below. Hopper raised a pair of binoculars, training in on the movement around the house. Several men appeared, carrying boxes.

"I have to go home," Nancy gasped.

“No, you can't,” Hopper said, still studying the men through the binoculars.

“My mom …my dad are there!” Nancy argued, her voice giving way to panic.

“They're gonna be okay.”

Jonathan saw Nancy shake her head and begin to walk away. Hopper caught the movement from the corner of his eye.

“Hey - hey, hey, hey, hey!” Hopper grabbed her before she got too far, pulling her back.

“Let go. Let go!” Nancy cried, struggling against the tight grip Hopper had on her arm.

“Hey! Listen to me. _Listen to me_ ,” Hopper began, turning Nancy to face him. “The last thing in the world we need is them knowing you're mixed up in all this.”

“ _Mike_ is over there –“

“They haven't found him,” Hopper told Nancy with absolute certainty. Jonathan’s brow furrowed. _How in the world did Hopper know that?_ “Not yet, at least,” he concluded, pointing overhead at the helicopter that came into view.

They gazed at the helicopter as it circled the neighborhood before heading back out over the trees.

“For Mike?” Nancy questioned incredulously.

“Come on, get in the car,” Hopper dragged Nancy behind him and directed her into the backseat beside Jonathan.

Once everyone was back in the car, Hopper turned to face the back. “Look, we need to find them before they do. Do you have any idea where he might have gone?” he asked Nancy.

“No, I don't,” she shook her head emphatically, throwing up her hands in frustration. 

Hopper sighed. “I need you to _think_.”

“I don't _know_. We haven't talked a lot. I mean, lately …” Nancy’s eyes turned downcast.  

Jonathan stared out the car window, considering. _Where would his brother’s friends go if they weren’t at Mike’s house? Dustin or Lucas’ houses would be too obvious. They wouldn’t go back into town…_ He gazed at the surrounding woods. _Where would they go?_

“Is there any place that your-your parents don't know about that he might go?” Joyce suggested.

“I don't know,” Nancy repeated, frustrated.

An idea formed in Jonathan’s mind.

“I might,” he cut in. 

“What?”

Jonathan glanced up. “I don't know where he is, but I think I know how to ask him.”

 _The radio – Will’s radio_. Sometimes at night, he would hear Will talking on it. Usually with Dustin, who lived closest to the Byers, but sometimes, if the weather was clear enough, the signal could reach all the way to the Wheeler’s house.

Hopper sped back to the Byers’ house, breaking several laws along the way.

Jonathan ran inside and went straight for Will's room. He skirted around the lamps that were still arranged in a semi-circle around the foot of Will’s bed. He began to rummage through Will's desk drawers, looking for the radio.

Joyce knelt on the floor, checking under the bed. He heard a gasp of discovery. “I got it!”

Joyce turned on the radio and passed it to Nancy. “Try calling Mike. He’ll answer you.”

Nancy bit her lip and nervously took the radio. She sat down on Will’s bed, staring at the electronic. Joyce sat beside Nancy and patted her arm encouragingly.

Nancy took a deep breath before raising the radio to her lips. “Mike, are you there? Mike?" she paused for a few seconds, waiting for a response. "Mike, it's me, Nancy."

She glanced at Joyce, who nodded for her to try again. “Mike, are you there? Answer.”

 _Silence_.

“Mike, we need you to answer.”

 _Static_.  “This is an emergency, Mike.”

“Do you copy? Mike, do you copy?” Nancy pleaded into the radio.

Joyce glanced at Jim Hopper, concern written on every feature. “We need to know that you're there, Mike.”

Hopper sighed and pushed off of the doorframe. He grabbed the radio from Nancy, who jumped slightly in surprise. Joyce stood beside him, hopeful.

“Listen, kid, this is the Chief,” he stated. “If you're there, pick up. We know you're in trouble and we know about the _girl_. We can protect you, we can help you, but you gotta pick up.”

Hopper paused for a moment, listening to the static. “Are you there? Do you copy? Over.”

Jonathan rubbed the back of his neck. _Maybe the signal wasn’t strong enough_ …

Hopper sighed and placed the radio on Will’s dresser. “Anybody got any other ideas?” He glanced around the room.

Joyce shook her head and glanced at Jonathan. He shoved his hands in his pockets and frowned. What else could they do to reach them? It was only a matter of time before they were discovered by someone. Time was definitely running out. Nancy shrugged and released a shaky breath.

Suddenly there was a crackle of electric static.

“Yeah, I copy,” the radio crackled. “It's Mike. I'm here. We're here.”

Nancy grabbed the radio from the dresser. "Mike, it’s Nancy - _where_ are you?”

“We're at the grave yard,” Mike Wheeler’s voice responded.

Joyce frowned. “Grave yard?”

“He means the junk yard over on Eerie,” Jonathan said, remembering Will mentioning it before.

Hopper gestured for the radio. Nancy reluctantly handed it to him. “Ok kid, we're coming to get you. I just need you to stay put,” he instructed.

++

Hopper went alone. _Less risk_ , he said. Jonathan tried reason with Hopper to take him along, but Hopper said no. And meant it.

After Hopper left, Jonathan had offered to make dinner, but no one was hungry. Joyce paced the house, chain smoking.

Jonathan realized that his father’s bag was no longer in the house.

“Where’s Lonnie?” he asked his mother.

“Gone,” she spat, her voice coated in venom. Jonathan didn’t press further.

To pass the time, Nancy helped Jonathan straighten up their living room. Jonathan collected broken bits of drywall into a trashcan while Nancy folded blankets and carried dirty dishes to the kitchen. They righted furniture and cleared out Joyce’s ashtray.

While they cleaned up, Nancy kept glancing overhead. “So, um…”

Jonathan followed her gaze to the ceiling where dozens of Christmas lights were strung from the ceiling. He picked up a can of dried paint. “My mom – she set this up to talk to Will.”

“Oh.” Nancy nodded, eyes wide with understanding. They continued to straighten up the Byers’ living room.

But after a while there was nothing else to do by wait.

Jonathan sat between Nancy and Joyce on the couch. Several hours had passed since Hopper left and the sun had set. He nervously chewed his finger nails again. Nancy sat to Jonathan’s left, hands clasped to repress nervous fidgeting while Joyce took another draw from her cigarette.

When headlights shone into the front window, they all stood, unsure, uneasy.

Joyce threw open the front door and sighed with relief. Hopper’s police vehicle was parked beside Jonathan’s car and he could see the boys climbing out of the back seat.

Nancy pushed passed Jonathan and ran to her brother.

“Mike. Oh, my God. Mike!” Nancy threw her arms around her little brother and hugged him close. Mike’s face almost made Jonathan laugh. “I was so worried about you,” Nancy told her, squeezing him even more tightly.

“Yeah, uh me, too…” Mike replied, a bit unsure.

Jonathan glanced up as the kids approached Mike and Nancy. He gazed curiously at the scrawny kid with the buzz cut. If he hadn’t been told about the girl, he would have assumed she was a boy.

Nancy seemed to notice her just then as well. She pulled away from Mike slightly, her head titling to the side.

“Is that my dress?”

The little girl glanced down at the pink dress and back at Mike, eyes fearful.

Mike shrugged as he stepped away from Nancy, back toward the girl. “El needed some clothes – and it’s not like it fits you anymore.”

Hopper walked up behind Dustin and Lucas, towering over them. “Alright, kids, get a move on inside.” He corralled everyone back inside the Byers’ house.

The boys made themselves at home, throwing their bags down by the door. The girl – El – followed suit, trailing after Mike wherever he went.

“Hey, Mrs. Byers,” Dustin said, “do you got any Nillas?”

Jonathan cracked a smile. “Come on, guys, I’ll make you something to eat,” he offered as he headed into the kitchen. Nancy helped Jonathan make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. They made enough for everyone, going through an entire loaf of Wonder Bread. Jonathan found that he was actually hungry for the first time in what seemed like days.

The kids arranged themselves on the floor of the living room and set their sandwiches on the coffee table. Joyce, Nancy, and Jonathan returned to their places on the sofa while Hopper sat in the armchair, next to Joyce. The boys and El ate their sandwiches greedily, as if they had been starving. Jonathan watched in amusement while Nancy stared at them in mild disgust.

“So-“ Hopper commented slowly, “This here is Eleven –“

“’El’ for short,” Mike clarified.  

“’El’, that’s a pretty name,” Joyce said kindly. The girl stared at Joyce for a moment before offering her a small smile in return.

“Right, El,” Hopper corrected. “The boys found her in the woods the night after Will disappeared. Funny, because I thought I remember telling you specifically not to go hunting around.”

For the most part, the boy ignored Hopper’s sharp gaze.

“Where has she been staying?” Joyce asked.

“In my basement,” Mike replied. Nancy gasped softly in surprise. “She’s been helping us look for Will-”

“She has _superpowers_ ,” Dustin cut in, emphatic.

Jonathan stared at El. This little girl? She looked so… ordinary. She was small, her face almost gaunt.

Jonathan chewed on his thumbnail. After everything they had seen in the past couple days, he wasn’t going to dismiss anything.

“So how exactly was she going to help you find Will?” Hopper questioned, leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees. 

“She knows where to find him,” Mike explained.

“Because she has _superpowers_ ,” Dustin commented again, in case they had missed it the first time.

“Where-where is he?” Joyce begged, sniffling beside Jonathan. He placed a hand on his mother’s knee and she clutched it, for comfort, as a life-line.

Mike glanced at Lucas and Dustin. “Do you have a piece of paper? It would be easier to explain that way.”

Jonathan nodded and grabbed some paper from the side table. Mike drew on the paper with a red marker and then held up the picture for them to see. There was a stick figure standing on a crooked line that extended across the page. Behind the figure was a red circle and a curved arrow pointing below the line.

“Okay, so theoretically, there are, like, millions of alternate dimensions. Mr. Clarke explained it to us like an acrobat walking a tightrope. The acrobat can only move forward and backward on the rope – our dimension – but say, a flea, could move in different directions, even _under_ the rope.”

Joyce leaned forward, studying the image. “So… where is Will?”

“Okay, so, in this example, we're the acrobat,” Mike informed them, “Will and Barbara, and that monster, they're this flea. And this is the Upside Down, where Will is hiding.”

 _Upside Down?_ Jonathan felt Nancy lean into him, a pleasant pressure at his side.

“Mr. Clarke said the only way to get there is through a rip of time and space,” Mike set the paper down.

“A gate,” Dustin chimed in.

“That we tracked to Hawkins Lab,” Lucas remarked.

“With our compasses!” They glanced at Dustin, not understanding the connection. He sighed, clearly disappointed in their lack of knowledge. “Okay, so the gate has a really strong electromagnetic field, and that can change the directions of a compass needle.”

“Is this gate underground?” Hopper asked, directing his gaze to El.

The girl nodded slowly. “Yes,” she whispered.

“Near a large water tank?” Hopper more stated, rather than asked.

El nodded again. “Yes.” Hopper’s gaze remained on El, his expression not quite readable.

Dustin stared at Hopper in equal parts wonder and fear. “How do you know all that?” he stammered out.

“He's seen it,” Mike reasoned. “Is there any way that you could that you could reach Will?” Joyce inquired, “That you could talk to him in this –“

“The Upside Down,” El named quietly.

“-Down. Yeah,” Joyce looked to the little girl before her, hopeful.

El nodded confidently.

“And my friend Barbara?” Nancy asked, leaning even more into Jonathan’s shoulder. “Can you find her, too?”

El nodded again.

Mike scrambled up and retrieved his backpack. “She needs a radio,” he explained. El stood and walked over to the Byers’ kitchen table. She took a seat and Mike placed the radio in front of her. They gathered around her, watching her curiously as she situated herself in the chair before she placed her palms flat on the table and closed her eyes.

For a few moments there was silence and then static began to crackle from the radio. Joyce breathed in sharply. Jonathan placed his hand on her shoulder and she grabbed his hand to keep herself grounded. The static continued, fading in and out, as if searching for a clear channel. The lights overhead flickered and Joyce nearly crushed Jonathan’s fingers.

The static waivered, suddenly increasing sharply before cutting off abruptly.

El’s eyes fluttered open, her bottom lip trembling. “I'm sorry.”

“What?” Joyce stuttered, squeezing Jonathan’s hand. “What's wrong? What happened?”

Tears filled El’s eyes. “I can't find them,” she whispered, voice breaking.

Jonathan’s heart sank and he pulled away from his mother, walking a few steps away. Joyce tried to cover up a sob.

El stood and disappeared into the bathroom, the door cracked open.

They could hear the faucet running.

Joyce looked at the boys, confused. “What happened? What’s wrong?” Jonathan returned to the kitchen table, looking expectantly at Mike. 

Mike sighed. “Whenever she uses her powers, she gets weak.”

“The more energy she uses, the more tired she gets,” Dustin agreed.

“Like, she flipped the van earlier,” Lucas said. _Flipped a van?_

“It was _awesome_ ,” Dustin added.

“But she's drained,” Mike informed them.

“Like a bad battery,” Dustin offered.

Joyce sighed, exasperated. “Well - How do we make her better?”

The boys shook their heads. “We don't,” Mike admitted. “We just have to wait and try again.”

“Well, how long?” Nancy urged, glancing at Joyce.

Mike shrugged. “I don't know.”

“The bath.”

El had emerged from the bathroom, standing in the shadow of the hallway.

“What?” Joyce asked.

“I can find them,” El told them. “In the bath.”

“In the bath? What does that mean?” Joyce looked between El and the boys.

Mike and Lucas shook their heads.

“The water tank,” Hopper said, pushing himself from the kitchen counter. “Remember what Becky said – the isolation tanks – sensory deprivation - they would put Terry in… said they were like big bathtubs, filled with salt water.”

Joyce nodded, remembering. “But how do we make sure we get it right?”

Dustin smacked his palm against the table, causing everyone to jump. “I know how – Mrs. Byers, do you have the teacher contact list?”

Joyce pointed to the corkboard next to the kitchen window.

Dustin pulled the paper down, scanned the list and then pulled the cordless phone from the wall as he carefully dialed a number.

 “Hello? Mr. Clarke? It's Dustin,” he greeted.

The connection clicked with Joyce and Jonathan. Mr. Clarke, the boys’ favorite teacher at Hawkins Middle. He taught science and was the faculty sponsor for the Audio-Visual club the boys were involved in.

“Yeah, yeah,” Dustin was saying. “I just, I-I have a science question,” he stammered out.

“Do you know anything about sensory deprivation tanks? Specifically how to build one?” he paused for a moment, before responding “Fun?”

Mr. Clarke seemed reluctant to begin this type of discussion at 10 o’clock at night, but Dustin pushed back. “You always say we should never stop being curious. To always open any curiosity door we find. Why are you keeping this curiosity door locked?”

Dustin smiled in victory and moved to take a seat at the table. “Pencil and paper!” he hissed. Lucas and Mike ran to the living room and retrieved the necessary items. Dustin grabbed them and began to scribble frantically.

“Uh-huh. Uh-huh. How much? Uh-huh. Yep, all right. Yeah, we'll be careful. Definitely. All right, Mr. Clarke. Yeah, I'll see you on Monday. I'll see you on Monday, Mr. Clarke. Bye,” Dustin finished, rushing the science teacher off the phone.

He tapped the paper with his pencil and then pointed to Joyce.

“Do you still have that kiddie pool we bobbed for apples in?”

Joyce hesitated. “I think so…” she glanced at Jonathan for affirmation.

He nodded. “Yeah.” The pool was sitting in the shed out back.

“Yeah,” Joyce confirmed.

Dustin smiled. “Good. Then we just need salt- _lots_ of it.”

“How much is ‘lots’?” Hopper asked.

Dustin glanced down at his paper, finding his note. “1,500 pounds.”

Nancy scoffed. “Well, where are we gonna get that much salt?”

“I know where,” Hopper said, rising from the table. “Come on, kids, into the cars.”

Joyce, Dustin and Lucas rode with Hopper in his police truck while Jonathan drove behind him, speeding just to keep pace. Nancy turned in the front seat, regarding Mike and El in the back.

“How on earth did you hide a girl in the basement for a week without anyone knowing?”

“I don’t know,” Mike shrugged. “No one was really paying attention.”

Jonathan glanced in the rearview mirror. El was huddled next to Mike in the backseat.

Nancy huffed and turned around, chewing on her lip.

When they reached the school ground, Jonathan followed Hopper around to the back of the gymnasium and parked his car.

Hopper immediately assigned job duties, not leaving a minute to spare. Dustin and Lucas were sent into the gymnasium with the kiddie pool, Nancy and Mike left to search the maintenance shed for water hoses and Joyce took El with her into the school to find something that would help block out the rest of the world while El was in the water.

Hopper took Jonathan with him to the storage shed where the county had recently stocked the school with enough road salt for the winter. Hopper broke the lock and pulled open the shed door. Salt was stacked almost three feet high in white plastic bags. He instructed Jonathan to retrieve a cart and then began to toss 50 pound bags of de-icing salt to him.

Jonathan grunting under the weight of each bag, feeling slightly breathless as he threw down the bags onto the rolling cart.

The chill in the later autumn air nipped at his nose. “Hey, wait,” he said, glancing up at the sky. “It's not gonna snow next week, is it?”

He could practically feel Hopper roll his eyes at him. The Chief huffed a large sigh as he lifted around bag of salt. “Worst case, no school,” he retorted.

“Even if we find Will in there - what are we gonna do about that thing?” he asked, grunting as he caught another bag.

“ _We're_ not gonna do anything,” Hopper declared. “I don't want you anywhere near this, all right? Your mom's been through enough already.”

Jonathan stared at Hopper, taken aback. _He wasn’t a kid anymore. He could help_. “He's _my_ brother,” he retorted, anger and frustration flaring.

Hopper stepped out of the shred and gripped Jonathan’s jacket, pulling him slightly closer. “Listen to me,” he demanded, eyes staring intently at Jonathan. “I'm gonna find him. All right? You gotta trust me on this. _I am going to find him_.”

Jonathan didn’t doubt Hopper’s conviction. Something was driving the Chief, something that almost frightened Jonathan, whatever it was. He knew that Hopper would help find his brother, but everyone else seemed to be overlooking the fact that this creature – this monster – was dangerous, and a threat if it wasn’t dealt with.

Jonathan frowned at Hopper, his face drawn into a scowl. The Chief’s tone had been final, so he didn’t dare push further at the moment. Jonathan staggered back under the weight of another bag of salt that hit him square in the chest.

They continued to load the salt onto the cart, Jonathan working in sullen silence. Once they had loaded the cart to a level in danger of tipping over, Hopper helped Jonathan push it into the gymnasium.

Jonathan hated the Hawkins Middle School gym. He had been forced to participate in a variety of sporting activities as part of Physical Education and while not wholly un-athletic, he wasn’t exactly the athletic type. He knew the gait of his run was a bit odd – his dad had pointed it out on more than one occasion – he hadn’t needed his classmates’ commentary on it too. His hand-eye coordination wasn’t great – his inability to hit a target with his father’s stolen gun proved that. He had gotten into his first fight behind the Hawkins Middle School gym too. A group of boys had been making fun of him, which he could have ignored, but they had to bring up his family... Jonathan had thrown the first punch, hitting Jacob Smith square in the nose before he had gotten knocked to the ground and taken a beating that left him with a black eye and several bruised ribs.

Lucas and Dustin had set up the pool in the middle of the basketball court and Mike was bent next to the kiddie pool, holding two water hoses. Lucas had a thermometer positioned in the water and was calling out temperature changes.

Once the pool had been filled with water to the correct temperature, Hopper and Jonathan began to pour bags of salt into the small plastic pool. Jonathan slashed the bottom of a bag with his pocketknife, the salt spilling out into the warm water. Had it really been less than two weeks since the boys had been popping for apples in this pool? He shook his head, the image of Will almost falling into the water as he tried to bite into an apple flooding his mind. He prayed to God that this worked. It _had_ to work…  

Every so often, Dustin would test the water’s buoyance with an egg. They kept adding salt until it floated. The boys placed Mike’s hand-held radio on a metal cart beside several towels they had found in the locker room. Mike turned on the radio and tuned it to the channel the boys typically used.

Joyce finally reappeared with El by her side. The girl had really seemed to take to his mother.

“Ready?” Joyce asked, El’s hand in hers.

Dustin nodded. “Yupe, everything’s ready,” he lisped.

El stepped out of Mike’s borrowed sneakers and peeled off her gym socks. She removed a wristwatch and handed it back to Mike, who refastened it onto his own wrist.

Taking a deep breath, El turned to Joyce, who gave her a small smile and handed her a pair of lab goggles that had been ducktaped. El slipped the goggles over her eyes and grabbed Joyce’s hand.

Joyce and Hopper guided the girl to the pool and helped her into the water.

“Remember, I’m right here with you,” he heard his mother whisper.

They all gathered around the pool, kneeling or sitting, as El sank into the water, Nancy’s old dress bubbling around her legs.

The girl laid onto her back and floated, drifting slightly off-center.

There was a moment of silence as everyone held their breath and then static sounded from Mike’s radio. The lights flickered overhead, casting strange shadows in the corners of the gym.

“Barb? Barbara?”

Nancy leaned forward on her knees, straining to hear.

El panted, her breathing slightly labored.

The lights flickered overhead.

“What's going on?” Nancy asked, turning to Mike.

Her brother shook his head, eyes trained on El. “I don't know,” he replied, watching El with growing concern.

“Is Barb okay? Is she okay?” Nancy asked urgently as she leaned forward.  

“Gone.”

“Gone,” El’s voice quivered, growing panicked.

Nancy gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. Jonathan tentatively reached out to her, his fingertips brushing her shoulder. She shook as she began to cry, sobs rising from deep within her chest.

“Gone,” El cried.

Joyce reached into the pool, a steady hand resting on the young girl’s shoulder. “It's okay,” she soothed. “It's okay. It's okay.”

“Gone,” El cried again, “Gone!”

El began to shake. Joyce grasped her arm while Hopper took hold of El’s other hand. “It's okay. It's okay-“

“Gone!” El sobbed along with Nancy.

“Hey,” Joyce echoed, “It's okay. It's okay, we're right here. We're right here, honey,” she glanced at Hopper, his stoic face unreadable. “It's okay. I got you. Don't be afraid. I'm right here with you,” his mother reassured the frightened child. “I'm right here with you. It's okay, you're safe. You're okay, honey.”

El visibly calmed, her breath evening out. The lights flickered again.

“Castle Byers,” El whispered.

Joyce looked at Jonathan, eyes wide. _Had she found him_? Jonathan was afraid to hope…

“Will?”

Joyce gasped. “You tell him-tell him I'm coming,” Joyce instructed firmly, still gripping El’s hand. “Mom is coming.”

Mike’s radio whined, static echoing as the signal adjusted.

“Hurry.”

Jonathan’s heart stopped. _Will_. It had been almost a week since Jonathan had heard his brother’s voice. Unbidden tears stung his eyes. _Will_.

Joyce shook, her voice wavering. “Okay. Listen, you tell him to - to stay where he is. We're coming. We're coming, okay? We're coming, honey,” she stammered out.

The water around El rippled as her body involuntarily jerked.

Panicked breaths and whimpering echoed from the radio and suddenly, El shot up, sputtering and gasping for breath. She flung the goggle off her head. Joyce held onto her, even as the child tried to pull away, frightened.

El shook, panting as Joyce pulled her into an embrace. “Oh, okay, okay. I've got you,” she soothed, rocking gently from side to side. “It's okay. I got you. I got you. I got you, honey. You did so good,” Joyce whispered quiet praises into El’s short hair. “Are you okay?” El clung to Joyce, crying softly. Joyce kissed El’s temple, rubbing her shoulder.

Once El had stopped shaking, Hopper lifted her from the pool and wrapped her in a towel. The boys following him over to the bleachers where Hopper sat El down on the worn wooden step. Mike pushed passed the Chief and took a seat beside El. She immediately dropped her head to his shoulder and signed, shutting her eyes. Lucas retrieved another towel and wrapped it about El’s shoulders.

Nancy exited the gym as Hopper pulled Joyce and Jonathan aside, “So this fort - Where is it?” he asked, pulling on his coat.

“Uh, it's in the woods,” Joyce stuttered, “behind our house.”

Jonathan nodded. “Yeah, he used to go there to hide.”

Hopper straightened his collar and strode away toward the exit. Jonathan and Nancy exchanged a glance before hurrying after him.

Hopper looked behind him as Joyce shoved the door open.

“Hey, get back inside,” Hopper commanded.

“What, are you _insane_?” Joyce ground out. “No, I'm –“

“Look,” Hopper replied, trying to make her understand. “If something happens to me, I don't make it back –“

“Yeah, but then I'll go. _You stay_ ,” she snapped. “Are you _kidding_ me? He's my son, Hop. _My son_. I'm going!”

Hopper pursed his lips, knowing Joyce’s decision was final.

His mother turned to him and placed her hands on Jonathan’s chest. “Now, listen, I need you to stay here –“

“No,” Jonathan immediately cut in.

“-and watch over the kids.”

He shook his head. “ _No_ , Mom. I can help.” _How did they not see that? He could help, damnit._

“Please, I need you to stay, Jonathan,” Joyce pleaded with him. _I can’t lose you too_. Her unspoken words hung in the air, heavy between them.

“Joyce!” Hopper called, climbing into his truck.

“Please,” Joyce repeated, hugging Jonathan. He could feel her shaking slightly. “Please, be careful.”

“Joyce, _come on_!” Hopper insisted, slamming the door shut.

“Please. I'm gonna find him. I'm gonna find him,” Joyce pulled away, sliding into the car beside Hopper.

The engine roared to life as Joyce slammed the door shut. _I love you_ , she mouthed, tears in her eyes as Hopper whipped out of the parking space, tires screeching.

Jonathan watched, his shoulder shagging helplessly as the red taillights faded from view. Not knowing what else to do, he returned to the school, finding Nancy sitting in the hallway in front of a large mural of the school mascot.

He trudged over to her and rested his back against the wall, slowly sinking to the ground beside her. Nancy’s legs were drawn up to her chest and tears stained her cheeks.

She had just found out that her best friend was dead. How could he comfort her? The right words just wouldn’t seem to come.

Finally, Nancy broke the silence. “We have to go back to the station.”

Jonathan turned his head to look at her. “What?”

“Your mom and Hopper … are just walking in there like _bait_. That thing is still in there. And we can't just sit here and let it get them, too. We _can't_ ,” she whispered with such great conviction that Jonathan realized her mind was already made up.

Jonathan sighed, knowing that he’d follow Nancy into the unknown. “You still wanna try it out?” referring to their plan.

“I wanna finish what we started,” Nancy muttered, raising her eyes to meet Jonathan’s. Behind the tears, he recognized the anger. “ _I want to kill it_.”

Jonathan nodded and stood, pulling his car keys from his pocket. “Come on,” he said as he extended his hand to Nancy. She grasped it firmly and pulled herself up.

They sped to the Police Station. Only one vehicle was sitting outside the otherwise abandoned building. Jonathan parked a block away and he and Nancy crept up to the station. He peaked inside the front doors and nodded to Nancy. They quietly pulled the door open and snuck inside, staying low. Florence had gone home of the night and only one officer sat in the middle of the room, back to the door as he listened to the radio.

Jonathan tiptoed down the hall as quickly as he dared and tried the door handle to Hopper’s office. He sighed in relief as it effortlessly turned, clicking open. He stood and pushed the door open. Their box of monster hunting supplies still sat on Hopper’s desk. He grabbed it and hurried back through the hall. Making sure the officer’s back was still turned, Nancy and Jonathan slipped out of the Police Station and ran back to his car. Jonathan threw the box into the backseat. He shifted the car into first and pulled back onto the road.

“Where to?” he asked as they sped down the midnight-darkened streets of Hawkins.

Nancy considered for a moment. “The woods are too exposed, too open” she reasoned. “We need somewhere where we can corner this thing – and finish it off.”

Jonathan nodded in agreement. “Back to my house, then?” he offered. Their house was where it had all started – where Will had been taken. Might as well be the place where they killed this monster.

Nancy squared her shoulders, nodding once. “Let’s go kill this bastard.”


	8. Should I Stay or Should I Go?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See chapter 1 for disclaimer.

Nancy and Jonathan rushed back to the Byers’ house.

They pulled their monster hunting supplies from the trunk and carried them inside. Nancy had taken a fire extinguisher from the police station, which Jonathan realized was a very good idea – he didn’t want to actually burn his house down trying to kill this thing…

They hurried inside and set to work. Jonathan took the box full of colorful bulbs and began to screw them back onto the wire, Nancy working her way from the opposite side of the room to meet him in the middle. They only worked with the larger Christmas lights, knowing the small strings would take up too much precious time. But they needed some kind of warning systems for when the monster came and this was their best bet.

Next, Jonathan secured the bear trap into the floorboards in the middle of the hallway, using the nine inch nails Nancy had collected at the army surplus store. Jonathan pulled at the trap, making sure it was securely hammered into the floor.

Nancy loaded the .38, slipping as many bullets as she could into her pockets, just in case she needed to reload the weapon quickly.

Jonathan took the rest of the large nails and hammered them into Nancy’s baseball bat, creating a melee-like weapon. The nails would be much more unforgiving if the creature got close enough for them to strike it with the bat.

Nancy took the gasoline drum and carefully began to pour gas onto the carpet, making a clear trail from the living room down the hallway into Will’s room.

They rigged a string from a yo-yo to the bear trap and ran it back to Will’s room, so that they would know when the trap snapped shut.

Jonathan rummaged around in his mother’s bedroom until he located a spare lighter, hitting the flint to make sure a spark caught.

Lastly, Nancy helped Jonathan set the bear trap. She stood on one pressure point while Jonathan stepped on the other. He carefully pried the jaws of the trap apart, pushing down until the latch clicked. Nancy set the release switch and pulled her hand free.

Jonathan glanced up at Nancy and nodded. Slowly, they pressed themselves against the wall, as far away from the jaws of the bear trap as they could before gently easing off the pressure points. Jonathan held his breath as he removed his foot, praying that they had set the trap correctly. It stayed open, release trigger holding, ready to snap its jaws around unsuspecting pray.

Jonathan let out a sigh of relief and glanced across the hall at Nancy. She nodded, finally taking a breath herself.

They were ready.

Nancy and Jonathan stood together in the living room, kitchen knives clutched in their hands.

“Remember –“ Jonathan said, repeating their plan.

“Straight into Will's room,” Nancy recited, “And –“

“Don't step on the trap.”

Nancy gazed at Jonathan. “Wait for the yo-yo to move.”

“Then…” Jonathan clicked the lighter, the flame jumping to life. He snapped it shut and pocketed the light. “All right,” he breathed, steeling himself for what was to come. “You ready?”

“Ready,” Nancy echoed.

They placed the knives against their palms, blades down.

“On three,” Jonathan said, his voice suddenly shaking. He cleared his throat and started to count. “One… two…” He saw Nancy close her eyes and grimace, the fear of confronting that thing again bleeding through her calm exterior. He paused “You don't have to do this…”

Nancy frowned. “Jonathan, stop talking.”

“I'm just saying, you don't have to –“

“Three,” Nancy finished, and his hand jerked, slicing the blade into the palm of his left hand.

_Jesus, that hurt._

Nancy bit back a whimper on her lips. They squeezed their hands into fists, the blood running down their wrist and dripping on the carpet. Jonathan glanced up, expecting to see the Christmas lights flicker.

Nothing happened.

He glanced at Nancy, who glanced around nervously. Her eyes flitted back to his. “May be it takes a while for it to sense the blood? The deer had been laying there for a while…” her voice trailed off as she took a step closer to him.

He nodded, but stepped into her all the same, their hips bumping together. They turned in a slowly circle for several minutes, listening, watching. Every faint creak made them jump.

But nothing happened.

No lights flickered, no walls moved.

After about ten minutes had past, Jonathan retrieved some bandages from the bathroom to wrap their hands. They sat on the couch facing each other, knees touching as he took her hand in his. He pressed a bit of gauze against the cut on Nancy’s palm, waiting until the bleeding eased. She watched him as he placed fresh gauze against the cut and then wrapped a length of bandage around her hand, securing it with medical tape.

He squeezed gently and she gave a whispered ‘thank you’ before returning the favor.

She repeated what he had done to her hand, cradling his hand in her slender fingers.

A creak on the porch caused them both to freeze, glancing to the window.

“Did you hear that?” Nancy breathed, squeezing his injured hand a little too tightly.  

“It's just the wind,” he reassured her after a moment, not hearing anything else. Nancy nodded and began to wrap the bandage around his hand, her brow creasing in worry.

Jonathan gazed Nancy. “Don't worry,” he murmured. “My mom, she said the lights speak when it comes.”

Nancy raised an eyebrow. “Speak?”

“Blink,” he corrected. “Think of them as alarms.”

Nancy nodded, gazed at the Christmas lights overhead. She turned her focus back to bandaging his hand.

“Is that too tight?” she asked, lifting her eyes to his.

They were sitting incredibly close, their heads bent together. Jonathan felt his face flush. “No, it's fine,” he whispered. “Thanks.”

He licked his dry lips as Nancy taped the bandage in place.  Her fingers pressed gently on the bandage one last time before they trailed down. He thought she would pull away, but she didn’t, her fingers lingering on his.

His heart hammered in his chest. He slowly brought him thumb down to rest against her skin. This touch was different – it wasn’t a life-or-death tug-of-war embrace. This was a slow, burning thing. Something altered and unlike before... He felt a warm glow deep in the pit of his stomach and feed into his veins.

“Nancy?” he whispered like a prayer, eyes on her face.

_Could she… was it possible that she could… feel… something?_

“Yeah?” Her long lashed brushed her cheeks as she stared down at their hands. Slowly, her eyes met his.

Jonathan felt like he could drown in her stare. He felt himself shift forward, just the slightest bit.

Banging on the front door caused them both to nearly jump out of their skin. Jonathan and Nancy’s hands intertwined, squeezing tightly. The cut on Jonathan’s palm ached.

“Jonathan?” called a muffled voice from outside. “Are you there, man? It's-it's Steve!” Nancy and Jonathan stared at each other. _What the hell? What was Steve Harrington doing at his house?_ “Listen, I just want to talk!”

Steve continued to bang on the front door. Nancy sighed and answered the door, opening it just a crack.

“Steve, listen to me-“

“Hey-“ Jonathan could hear Steve stop short in confusion. “Nancy, what-“

“You need to _leave_ ,” Nancy insisted sternly. Jonathan rose from the couch, body tensed for another fight.

“I'm not trying to start anything, okay?” Steve swore, hand on the door.

“I don't care about that,” Nancy hissed. “You need to _leave_.”

“No, no, no,” Steve stammered. “Listen, I messed up, okay? I messed-I messed up. Okay? Really. Please,” he pleaded. “I just want to make things right. Okay? Please. Please.”

Nancy shook her head the slightest bit.

Steve paused, something else catching his attention. “Hey, what happened to your hand? Is that _blood_?”

“Nothing,” Nancy stuttered, pulling her bandaged hand out of view. “It was an accident.”

“What's going on?” Steve demanded, the tone of his voice changing from penitent to hostile.  

“Nothing.” Nancy averted.

“Wait a sec…Did he do this to you?”

“ _No_.”

“Nancy, let me in!” Steve shoved against the door.

“No. No! No, Steve!” Despite Nancy’s best efforts, Steve Harrington pushed inside and stumbled into the Byers’ living room.

Jonathan’s fists clinched as Steve slowly straightened, eyes running from the lights and the writing on the wall to Jonathan’s melee bat sitting on the coffee able.

“What is-What the –“

“You need to get out of here,” Jonathan snapped, grabbing the front of Steve’s sweater.

“Whoa…” Steve, muttered, hands coming up to defend himself. “What is all –“

“Listen to me,” Jonathan said through gritted teeth. “I'm not asking you - I'm telling you, _get out of here_!”

“What is that smell? - Is that-is that _gasoline_?”

“Steve,” Nancy yelled, “get out!”

The click of Nancy pulling down on the hammer on the .38 made Jonathan jump aside. He stared at her as Nancy turned the gun on her boyfriend.

Steve choked on a cry of disbelief. “Wait. _What_? What is going on?”

Nancy set her jaw, her hand steady. “You have five seconds to get out of here.”

“Okay, is this a _joke_? _Stop_. Put the gun down,” Steve cried.

A flash of light above Nancy’s head made Jonathan pause, glancing up.

“I'm doing this for you,” Nancy pleaded, knowing Steve couldn’t really understand what was taking place.

“Nancy,” Jonathan said, his voice stuck in his throat.

“Wait. Is this a-What is this?” Steve argued loudly, not giving up.

“Nancy,” Jonathan repeated, finding his voice again. The lights began to blink in earnest. Jonathan felt his blood run cold.

“Three,” Nancy was counting, “Two.”

“No, no, no! No, no!” Steve shouted, edging toward the door with his hands extended in a sign of surrender.  

“ _Nancy_!” Jonathan yelled. Her head whipped toward him, gun still pointed at Steve. “The lights.” She glanced up, eyes wide with fear. “It's here.” Jonathan lunged for the baseball bag, swinging it up into a defensive position.

“Wait, what's here?” Steve asked, his face contorted in confusion.

Nancy automatically moved to Jonathan, glancing around. “Where is it?”

They pressed together back to back

“Where is _what_?”

The lights continued to flickered, signaling that doom was approaching.

“Whoa! Easy with that!” Steve said, still standing in the doorway.

“Where is it?” Nancy cried.

“I don't know. I don't see it.” Jonathan didn’t know where to look, didn’t know where it would come from…

“Where is _what_? _Hello_?” Steve called, arms spread wide. “Will someone please explain to me what the hell is going –“

An unearthly roar echoed through the ceiling. Jonathan raised his eyes to the ceiling in the corner of the living room. Plaster began to crumble and fall as a long fingered hand ripped through. The faceless creature’s head pushed through the hole, a terrible shriek emanating that made Jonathan’s skin crawl. Nancy raised the .38 and took aim, firing off several shots.

It screeched in pain and dropped from the ceiling onto the living room floor.

“No! Go! Go!” Jonathan wrapped his arm around Nancy’s waist and pulled her back and away from the monster, pushing her into the hall “Run! Go!” Jonathan yelled, about to follow her when he noticed that Steve hadn’t moved. “Get out of here!” He grabbed Steve’s arm and pulled, running toward the hall. He heard Steve stumble after him.

The creature growled, deep and guttural as it gave chase.

“Jump!” Jonathan yelled back at Steve, leaping over the bear trap.  

“Oh, my God! Oh, my God!” Steve muttered behind him. As soon as they were both inside Will’s room, Nancy slammed the door shut. Jonathan and Nancy faced the door, weapons drawn.

“Jesus! Jesus! What the hell was that?” Steve panted behind them. “What the hell was that?”

Nancy and Jonathan turned. “Shut up!” they yelled in unison before turning their attention back to the door. Jonathan pulled the lighter from his pocket, striking the flint.

The monster screeching and the walls shook, but the yo-yo string didn’t move.

Jonathan glanced at Nancy, still slightly breathless.

“What's it doing?” Nancy breathed. The lights in Will’s room flickered, electricity flaring.

Jonathan shook his head. “I don't know…”

Silence filled the halls and the lights returned to their normal glow.

They titled their head together and listened. “Do you hear anything?” Nancy whispered.

“No…”He clicked the lighter shut.

After a few more moments of silence, Jonathan opened Will’s bedroom door, peering out into the hall, baseball bat raised.

The hall was empty as if no one had ever been there. Nancy and Steve followed him back into the living room, being careful to mind the bear trap.

The living room was empty. There was no one else there. The lamps glowed soft yellow. The string of lights hung unlit. The hole in the ceiling had disappeared. Ice crept through Jonathan’s veins. _Something was wrong… something was very, very wrong…_

Steve began to mumble, his voice rising in panic. “This is crazy. This is crazy. This is crazy. This is crazy! This is crazy! This is crazy!” Steven turned and ran into the kitchen, pulling their phone from the wall and dialing 9-1-1.

“What are you do-“ Nancy pulled the phone away from Steven and flung it across the living room “What are you doing?” Steve cried. “Are you _insane_?”

“It's going to come back!” Nancy snapped. “So you need to leave. _Right_ _now_.”

Steve stared at her for a second before bolting out the front door.

As soon as the door slammed behind him, the Christmas lights began to flicker again.

Jonathan and Nancy immediately jumped together, back to back. The lights began to strobe in a violent pattern, making it incredibly difficult to see clearly.

“Where is it?” Nancy yelled, frantic.

Jonathan scanned the room from ceiling to baseboard, hands aching as they gripped the bat. “Come on. Come on, you son of a bitch,” Jonathan muttered darkly.

He wanted this over with – once and for all.

“You see it?” He asked desperately, sweeping the empty room.

“No,” Nancy panted, her leg bumping his as she turned. “Where-“

“Come on,” Jonathan growled out his frustration, starting to think they were just being toyed with. “Where are you? Come on!”

As the word died on his lips, the lights cut out, leaving them in total darkness.

Nancy shuttered beside him. Jonathan stared into the darkness, trying to see… He turned to face Nancy, reaching for her.

Nancy’s eyes focused above Jonathan’s head. She gasped as a low growl breathed down Jonathan’s neck.

“Jonathan!” she cried out in warning, but by the time he was able to turn around, bat raised, the creature was on him. It knocked the bat out of his hands, sending it skidding uselessly away.

It fell on Jonathan, driving him into the floor. The breath flew from his lungs as sharp nails dug into his chest. He gasped, struggling for air as the creature’s weight slowly crushed him from above.

He groaned in pain as the creature lowered its faceless head to his, the stench of death and decay on its breath.

“Jonathan! Jonathan!” he heard Nancy scream. Her voice was growing more distant. He opened his mouth to draw breath and a pool of putrid saliva filled his mouth as the creature began to unfold its mouth. Jonathan gagged, feeling like he would suffocate. The flaps of the creature’s mouth bloomed, revealing horrid rows of razor sharp teeth around a gaping maw. 

He should have listened to Hopper.

And now he would die in his own stupidity, thinking that he could take on a creature from another dimension.

He closed his eyes and prayed that it would be over quickly.

BANG.

The monster reared back, roaring in anger.

“Go to hell, you son of a bitch!” Nancy yelled, as she fired off more rounds. BANG. BANG.

The monster rose, removing the pressure from Jonathan’s chest.

BANG.

He rolled over and sucked in a breath of sweet air, only to turn and retch onto the carpet.

BANG.

He gasped, his head spinning. _Nancy…_

The monster bellowed, advancing on Nancy.

BANG.

Click.

Click.

_Oh no, Nancy…_

Jonathan faintly registered Steve’s sneakers as he picked up the modified baseball bat. Steve grunted with effort as he swung the bat, making contacted with the monster.

It shrieked in pain and anger.

“Steve!”

There was another thud followed by the ripping of flesh and more angry screeches. Jonathan slowly lifted himself onto his knees, still panting hard to catch his breath. He glanced toward Nancy and saw that Steve was driving the creature back into the hall, toward the bear trap. He pushed himself up, forcing himself to stand. Coughing, he fumbled in his pocket, pulling out the lighter.

Steve swung the bat again, the crack of wood on bone unmistakable.

There was a metallic click and then a guttural shriek of pain as the bear trap snapped shut against flesh.

“He's in the trap! He's stuck!” Steve called, shoulders squared, facing the beast with bat at the ready.

“Jonathan, now!” Nancy cried.

Jonathan stumbled forward, into the hallway. He flipped open the lighter with a flick of his wrist and the small flame burned brightly. He threw the light onto the gasoline-soaked carpet and the hallway erupted into flames.

The monster screeched as it was engulfed, Jonathan, Nancy and Steve watching at a distance. As the flames rose higher and hotter, Jonathan remembered himself and retrieved the fire extinguisher from the living room. He ran back into the hallway, colliding against the wood paneling on the far wall.

“Get back!” he called, as he sprayed the flames, smothering the fire. The hall filled with smoke. For a second time that night, Jonathan couldn’t breathe. They gasped and panted as the smoke began to clear, coughing to clear their lungs.

Collectively, they inched forward, into the hall to investigate.

Jonathan squinted against the burning sting of smoke in his eyes. But he didn’t see a body.

“Where did it go?” Nancy exclaimed, panic raising in her voice.

“No…” Jonathan muttered, “It _has_ to be dead. It has to be…”

The bear trap sat in the middle of the floor, where they had nailed it to the floorboards. It smoked and sizzled, but had trapped nothing but air.

A strange coppery substances covered the metal jaws of the trap. There was no sign of the monster anywhere. It had just… vanished.

Jonathan shook his head, still trying to catch his breath properly. “It doesn’t make sense…”

_The flea, the tightrope. Mike’s explanation flooded back to his mind. Had the monster jumped back to the other side – the Upside Down place?_

Nancy’s small gasped made him look up.

A single strand of Christmas lights began to light up, moving in their direction. He felt Nancy brush his arms, clutching at his sleeve, eyes full of dread.

He gazed up at the light, frowning. Something was off. That certainly wasn’t how the lights had warned them the monster was coming earlier…

The lights stopped, pausing above the bear trap before slowly retreated back down the hall, away from them. Steve, Jonathan and Nancy followed the lights, Steve holding the baseball bat at the ready.

The lights led them back out into the living room, which was empty. Jonathan started up at the Christmas lights, thinking…

“Mom,” he breathed and the lights stopped, just before the door. “Is that you? Mom?”

“Jonathan?” Joyce’s voice whispered, so low and soft, he almost missed it. Tears filled his eyes. They had done it – they had found the gate. His mom was on the other side, looking for Will.

The lights headed for the front door and disappeared. Jonathan followed it outside, Nancy and Steve trailing behind him.

Jonathan paused on the porch, glancing around. The light on the pole connecting power to the house flickered and then held steady.

“Where's it going?” Nancy wondered.

Jonathan slowly shook his head. “I don't think that's the monster,” he whispered, praying he was right.

++

Jonathan sat on the front porch with Nancy and Steve for a long while, waiting to see if the monster would come back. At one point, Jonathan thought he heard sirens in the distance and started to run to his car. Nancy had been the one to pull him back. They didn’t know if that was for Will. How could they be sure? He couldn’t just go off by himself in the middle of the night.

They sat on the porch for what felt like hours. Steve smoked and tried to control the tremor in his hand, the baseball bat positioned strategically at his feet. Jonathan sat beside the front door, peering warily into the house every once in a while. A cigarette that Steve had offered him remained unlit as he anxiously twirled it between his fingers. Nancy had reloaded the .38 and paced the length of the porch, gun in hand.

The shrill ring of the phone made them all jump. Jonathan stumbled into the house, almost ripping the phone off the wall in his haste. Nancy and Steve stood in the doorway as he answered.

“Jonathan?” his mother’s voice cut through the static before clearing.

“Mom?”

“Oh, Jonathan, we found him. _We found Will_.”

Jonathan felt his knees give out from under him and he sank to the kitchen floor, sobbing.

_Will._

_His kind, good, little brother._

_They had found him._

_They had found Will._

Jonathan was faintly aware of Nancy pulling the phone from his limp fingers.

She spoke into the phone, her words floating above his head. It didn’t matter because Hopper and his mother – they had found Will.

He drew his legs up to his chest and folded his arms across his knees. He cried into his arms, face buried in the crook of his elbow.

After a few minutes, he felt a hand on the back of his head.

“Jonathan?”

He sniffled and looked up. Nancy was kneeling in front of him. She brushed his bangs aside before wiping away a tear with her thumb.

“Where-?” he choked out.

“They’re at the hospital,” she told him softly. “Your mom wants you to bring some things, for Will… for when he wakes up.”

“He’s not… awake?”

Nancy hesitated for a moment. “He’s unconscious at the moment, but the doctors told your mom that he’s stable.” Her soft fingers ran across his cheek again, chasing away tears.

“Come on,” she urged gently, tugging on his arm.

Nancy helped Jonathan collected some things for Will from his bedroom – namely some clean clothes, a few fantasy books, and a notebook and markers. Jonathan grabbed Will’s boom box, lugging the portable electronic with him.

Jonathan fumbled with his car keys, his hands shaking. Nancy’s touch was light on his wrist. “It’s okay,” she reassured him. “Will’s going to be okay.” His vision kept blurring, the world gone hazy.  

He didn't remember how he got to the hospital, but suddenly, they'd arrived and Nancy was pushing Jonathan out of the backseat of Steve’s car.

They found Hopper in the hall of the children’s ward, pacing outside the room. He stopped mid-turn when he saw them, nodding to Jonathan. He placed a reassuring hand on Jonathan’s shoulder, squeezing in a comforting manner before leading him inside the small hospital room.

When he finally saw his little brother for the first time in six days, Jonathan could only think how small Will looked, laying in the hospital bed hooked up to tubes and wires. His skin was an unnaturally gray color, his lips chalky and blue. The heart monitor beeped steadily, for which Jonathan was glad. He brushed Will’s bangs aside, trying not to think about how cold and clammy his skin felt under his fingertips. He lowered his lips to his little brother’s forehead and kissed him, fresh tears running down his nose.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m sorry for not being there…”

It was several hours into early morning before Will woke up.

“Hey,” Joyce whispered. Jonathan glanced up to see his brother’s dark eyes open, focused on their mother's face. “Hi, sweetheart.”

“Hey,” Jonathan breathed. _Will was awake. Will was alive and awake and back home._

“Where-where am I?” he asked, his voice quiet and weak.

Joyce smiled and glanced at Jonathan. Will’s gaze slowly followed their mother’s.

Jonathan slipped his fingers into Will’s small hand. “You're home. You're home now. You're safe.”

“Jonathan,” Will breathed, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Yeah, it's me, buddy.” Tears ran down his cheeks. It seemed like all he had done the past few hours was cry. He sighed, trying to collect himself. “We missed you. We _really_ missed you.”

Will glanced down to where their hands were joined, his brow furrowing slights. “Are you okay?”

Jonathan squinted down at his freshly bandaged hand. One of the attending nurses had noticed the bandages on Nancy and Jonathan’s hands and insisted they receive proper cleaning and dressings. They have gotten a heated lecture on knife safety, the medical antiseptic burning deep into the cut.  

 “What, this?” he shook his head. “It's just a cut. It's nothing. You're worried about _my hand_.”

He chuckled in disbelief that his brother, who had been trapped in a horrible, alternate dimension, was worried about something as silly as his bandaged hand. Will managed a weak smile.

Remembering himself, Jonathan retrieved the box of items he had brought his brother. "Oh, hey, uh- We, uh- We brought you some stuff so you don't get bored in here." Jonathan lifted the small cardboard box onto the hospital bed, being careful to mind Will's legs. He rummaged through the contents, searching for the cassette. "So," Jonathan sniffled, "Uh, I made you a new mix tape. There's some stuff on there I think you really might like."

Will's eyes lit up and he smiled at Jonathan.

Once Joyce decided that Will was strong enough to see more visitors, she sent Jonathan down the hall to retrieve the rest of the boys from the waiting room.

Despite the early hour of the morning, only Lucas and Dustin had fallen asleep. Mike looked up when Jonathan leaned into the room while the other boys continued to snore softly beside him. Jonathan nodded in affirmation.

"Guys," Mike leapt out of his chair, "Guys, he's up. Will is up. Guys, Will's up." Mike shook Lucas, who jumped, throwing Dustin off his shoulder. "Guys, come on!" Mike called, pushing passed Jonathan as he ran down the hall. Jonathan stepped aside, allowing Lucas and Dustin to race after Mike, toward his brother's hospital room.

"Be careful. Be careful with him," he heard his mother scold as the three boys descended upon Will to give hugs and pats on the shoulder.

"Move," Dustin ordered, pushing through Mike and Lucas in his attempt to get to Will.

"Guys, guys," Jonathan called, not really having the heart to chastise the boys, but seeing his mother's growing concern. "Go easy on him."

Joyce touched Jonathan’s arm. “Watch him for a minute, will you?” she asked.

Jonathan nodded _. Of course._ Joyce smiled and stepped out of Will’s hospital room for the first time in hours.

“You won't believe what happened when you were gone, man-“ The boys began to talk over each other, telling Will about everything that had happened since he had disappeared. Will smiled up at his friends, his eyes full of joy as he listened.

A sudden fit of coughing caused the boys to lapse into silence. They froze, staring at Will.

Will took a swallow breath, trying to stop the coughing.

“You okay?” Mike asked softly.

"It got me," Will whispered, eyes flickering up to meet Mike's. "The Demogorgon."

The boy nodded solemnly. "We know. It's okay. It's dead. We made a new friend. She stopped it. She saved us. But she's gone now…” Jonathan couldn’t help up notice how crestfallen Mike looked in the moment, remembering El.

The boys began to talk over each other again as they told Will about El. Will’s eyes were wide with shock and awe as they told him about the strange girl with superpowers who had saved them. Jonathan smiled as he watched his little brother with his friends.

Movement from the doorway caught his eye. By the time Jonathan had turned his head, Nancy had already started to walk away. He wanted to reach out, to follow after her, but she was already walking down the hall, away from him… and he had his little brother to look after.

++

A month passed. Life in Hawkins, Indiana returned to normal. School resumed, Joyce went back to work, and the late autumn slowly gave way to winter.

Jonathan went back to being the loner at school, keeping mostly to himself. Some kids still whispered behind his back, but mostly they left him alone.

The rumor that Jonathan had killed Will – _come on, who would actually believe that_ – abruptly ended, especially in light of Will’s miraculously return from the dead.

One boy in his English Comp class did ask Jonathan what screwing Nancy Wheeler had been like. He had given the boy a dark look as he fought the urge to hit the kid in the face. That rumor died out soon enough too - Nancy Wheeler was dating Steve Harrington anyway, and popular boys were always more fun to gossip about than weird loners.

The best gossip at Hawkins High School was where Barb Holland had run away to. _Chicago? New York? London?_ The rumors flew and all Jonathan could think about was how much it must hurt Nancy Wheeler to not be able to publically mourn the death of her best friend.

Things in Hawkins had returned to normal and yet...

Things were different now, even if nobody wanted to admit it out loud.  

One difference was that Joyce insisted Jonathan pick up Will from the Wheeler’s house on evenings when he stayed to play Dungeons and Dragons. Their mother wasn’t comfortable with Will biking home by himself after dark. Jonathan didn’t mind and to be honest, Will didn’t seem to mind either.

The first weekend of Christmas Break, the boys had gathered in the Wheeler’s basement for an epic all-day section of D&D.

It was well after eight o’clock but the boys had only just finished slaying the thessalhydra when Jonathan arrived to pick up Will.

“So, you have fun?” Jonathan asked, ruffling his brother’s hair affectionately.

“Yeah,” Will nodded emphatically, his eyes bright as he beamed up at his brother.

“Hey, boys,” Karen Wheeler greeted as they passed her in the kitchen. The counter before her was full of pies and Christmas cakes.

“Hey, Mrs. Wheeler,” Jonathan replied, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Hi,” Will eyed the sweets with great interest.

“Hey, wish your mom a Merry Christmas for me, okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, thank you. Uh, Merry Christmas,” Jonathan muttered, following Will out of the Wheeler’s kitchen.

“Merry Christmas,” Karen called after them.

“So, uh, you win?” Jonathan asked his little brother.

“Yeah!”

Jonathan grinned. “Awesome.”

“Hey, Jonathan, wait up.”

Jonathan turned at Nancy’s voice. They hadn’t spoken much since the night Will came home. He wondered if she could sleep at night, or if she lay awake like he often did, listening for noises in darkness. If she had to sleep with the lights on now… He wondered if her nightmares were as bad as his –or worse, since she had actually been to the Upside Down place. He wondered a lot of things about Nancy Wheeler.

Tonight, she looked like a normal, pretty, suburban girl. Her hair was curled instead of pulled back in a messy ponytail. Her outfit a yolk-colored sweater over denim skirt instead of fingerless gloves and a corduroy jacket. And yet… there was something in her eyes that hadn’t been there before, something distant and dark. Something strange and different and oddly wonderful.

She descended the stairs, a present clutched to her chest. “Merry Christmas,” she breathed, the gift extended toward Jonathan.

He stared at the wrapped package for a second before he hesitantly accepted it. “Thanks, um I-I didn't get you anything,” he stammered, his face feeling flushed. “I-I feel bad…”

“No,” she said hurriedly, “no, it's, uh, it's not really a present. It's, um…Well, you'll see.”

Jonathan turned the box over in his hands, trying to figure out what it might be from the weight. Suddenly, Nancy’s hands were on his shoulders and her lips were on his cheek. Her lips were soft against his skin and she smelled sweet, like vanilla.

She stepped away all too quickly and he was surprised to see a blush rise in her cheeks to match his own. Nancy looked down for a moment before she raised her eyes to his, a tiny, hopeful look, asking if that was okay...

Jonathan couldn’t help the small smile that spread across his lips. “Merry Christmas,” he whispered.

Nancy grinned back at him and nodded. With one last, lingering look, she disappeared into the Wheeler’s living room.

“You ready?” Jonathan asked Will, trying to ignore the knowing stare his brother was giving him as he pulled his car keys from his pocket. “Let's go.”

They made a quick dash through the cold from the Wheeler’s front door to Jonathan’s car. He carefully set Nancy’s present on the seat next to him as he slammed his door shut. Jonathan flipped on the heat, rubbing his hands together for warmth.

He sighed, lost in though. “All right. Buckle up,” he told Will, about to shift into first.

“Can I open it?” Will asked, glancing down at the present.

Jonathan nodded, shrugging. “Yeah, sure.” He had absolutely no idea what Nancy Wheeler might have gotten him…

Will tore into the wrapping paper eagerly, ripping it away from the box. He held a sleek gray box in his hands, a picture of a camera printed to the front. “Whoa,” Will exclaimed, turning the box in his hands. “Pretty cool.”

 _Wow… just… wow._ “Yeah,” Jonathan said with a chuckle. “Yeah, pretty cool.”

He ruffled Will’s hair again before easing off the clutch and shifting the car into first. “Come on, let’s go home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I really struggled with the transition part of this chapter... Monster-slaying? Hell yeah, sign me up! Filler/transition? Ugh... struggle bus central. I think it came out alright... might have to post some additional one-shots to address a couple areas I think need more explanation, both pre- and post- Will's vanishing :)
> 
> Honestly though, I just had a blast writing this and getting inside Jonathan Byers' head. I can't believe this has over 1,000 hits - I'm so flattered! And of course, support of readers like the wonderful Ihni helped too :) But I think perhaps the most important advice I received about writing was to just do it for myself. And let me tell you, I am damn proud of this work. Long live Jonathan Byers - can't wait to see what the Duffer Brothers give us for Season 2!!


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